


Goblin Mother

by Asgardian_Centaur



Series: Monsters and Magic [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen, implied Loki/Sigyn - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-03-26 00:28:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 40,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3830407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asgardian_Centaur/pseuds/Asgardian_Centaur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sigyn's plans change; she realizes she can do so much more in her exile. And Harry gains the friend and mentor he thought he'd never see again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Fairy Godmother was supposed to be a one shot, isolated story. Then I realized there was a lot more story to tell. This chapter will have multiple chapters, and will be part of a longer, ongoing series.

Chapter One

Sigyn crushed another spider beneath her water bottle as it scurried across her nightstand, the third one of its kind to meet such a fate that evening, before wiping the remains off with a napkin. The bed she sat cross legged on was stiff and creaked with each movement, and the television screen flickered occasionally. She chose this motel for its location, the lack of sober guests who might recognize her, and that the clerk had barely looked at her when she came in. She was a ghost here, invisible, which was exactly what she wanted.

The sound barely worked on the television, but when the picture was clear the news was still showing the damage she's done at one of the bridges. It had been an accident really. Had her spell worked, she could have jumped into the swirling vortex in the river and left this realm behind with the only damage being done to a couple confused and misplaced fish. But her spell had failed and left part of the bridge cracked. No one was hurt, but the bridge was closed which was causing a small uproar. Construction was taking too long as crews were stretched thin cleaning up the damage caused by other 'superheroes'. The clock tower an electrical grid Spiderman, Electro and Harry had destroyed was still being repaired, and there were sections of New York that still bore scars from her husband's attack two years ago.

This realm wasn't safe for her. That the All-Father had trapped her here for her exile was tantamount to a death sentence. S.H.I.E.L.D. HYDRA. The Avengers. Spiderman. Various world governments. There was no shortage of prison guards to watch her, and deal with her if need be. She thought of returning to Norway; she and Loki had a cottage by one of the fjords. It was old, they hadn't been there for centuries, but it would be quiet and at least as close to 'home' as she could get. Pride however had ended that idea long ago. She would not be made into a hermit, cowering in the mountains. Besides, strange women living alone in the forests would attract more attention than one single woman in a metropolis. 

The news showed the clock tower where Spiderman fought Harry. It only made mention of Electro, and named him the killer of this Gwen Stacy girl. Oscorp, in looking out for its bottom line, had covered up Harry's involvement. And with the extent to which the spider venom had damaged him, he wouldn't have been easily recognizable.

Sigyn pulled the newspaper article that mentioned him out of her bag. She'd left him in Ravencroft for both their sakes, back when she thought she could get off this realm. Now that she couldn't, the guilt at the thought of him sitting alone in that place crept in. And if she was being honest with herself...he was the reason she hadn't found another city to hide in. She could help him, teach him to control his abilities rather than have him fend for himself. The All-Father had condemned her to solitude, and Harry had been sentenced to a life of isolation, and Sigyn was determined that neither of them would suffer those fates.

* * *

_His veins felt like they were on fire, and his skin felt like it would crack and split. Even his tears burned his eyes as he screamed his throat raw. He was going to die, he realized; the venom was going to dissolve him from the inside._

_"Shhhhh," a voice said from above him, as his body stopped writhing as though it had been issued a command. Fingers combed through his hair, a touch as gentle as the voice that spoke. "It's alright, little goblin." Their face was blurred, like looking up from under water, and he was slowly moving towards the surface._

Harry opened his eyes to a throbbing headache and groaned. His dreams had been weird ever since she showed up but this was new. Usually when he saw her she was a fleeting fragment, not interactive. Nor had he ever awoken with such a headache.

"Hello, Harry." That same voice from his dream spoke to him again and for a moment he thought he was still dreaming. He nearly rolled off his bed and scrambled to sit upright. She was on the other side of the bars, her face partially obscured by her hood. Still, he knew that voice.

"I didn't think I'd see you again, fairy godmother." 

"Things have changed, so I thought I'd pay you a visit."

A visit. So she was going to leave him in this god-forsaken prison again. "Not much has changed except my cell. Ever since you last showed up, they feel the need to put me in a smaller cage."

"So I've noticed. Would you like to be free of it?"

Harry knew one day he would escape Ravencroft. Either Fiers would get him out or he'd gain enough control of his transformation to fight his way out. But he never imagined he'd be out in under a year. He slid off the bed and approached the bars. "What?"

"Unless of course you like this shoebox they've placed you in."

"No." Freedom was so close it was making his head spin. "You've got to get me out of here." Her hand came through the bars and cupped his cheek. "Please, I can't stay here."

"Be patient just a while longer, little goblin. I swear, in a few hours you will walk out of here."

She was gone just as suddenly as she had appeared, and if it weren't for the lingering touch on his cheek he would have sworn she never was there. His heart beat wildly in his chest and he had to stifle the manic laughter threatening to burst past his lips.  

However, his euphoria was short lived. Each second felt like an hour, each minute another day. Pacing back and forth in his cell made him agitated, but he would bounce and tremble if he sat still for too long. He wished she had told him even part of the plan; anything would be better than this limbo she put him in.

"Mr. Osborn." The guard gave him no time to answer before the barred door slid open. "The director will see you now."

The new director was some interim whose name Harry hadn't bothered learning, though now he was wishing he had as the guard walked him through the complex. His visions of freedom crumbled with each step. Had Sigyn been discovered? Was she in a cell of her own or worse? If she was and they had found her his treatment would be worse.

The interim director was a tall, slightly pudgy man with curly brown hair and a receding hairline who was hunched over the papers on his desk. One of the doctors stood next to him, looking at the papers on his desk as well as his own tablet. 

"It seems your time with us has come to an end, Mr. Osborn." Harry may have never met the man but there was a distant quality to his tone, as though he was merely ordering a new shipment of meds. "You're free to go."

"What?"

"Your godmother is here to take you home."

He hadn't noticed her sitting in the corner though with the black wide brimmed hat she was wearing he should have. The hat still partially hid her face but he could still see her lips curved into a smirk. She rose and walked over to him in one fluid motion, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Ready?" He nodded; questions were best saved for late.

He didn't have much in the way of personal effects, just the pair of jeans and boots he'd been wearing that night, so he was given a fresh, plain white t-shirt to wear. His hands shook the entire time he was changing, fumbling and struggling as though he'd never dressed himself before. There was no telling how long Sigyn's...whatever the hell she had done...would last and the last thing he wanted was guards busting, guns pointed at him, while his pants were down. When he was done, he found Sigyn just outside the door. "One more thing." She pulled something out of her purse, a pendant secured on a bit of cord, and slipped it over his head. "Family heirloom."

It wasn't Harry's first time being bailed out and escorted out of jail, but it was the most intense. He was certain that at any moment, one of the guards would notice him and drag him back to his cell. Sigyn, meanwhile, looked completely at ease.

"Keep your head up, little goblin," she whispered. "Look like you don't belong here and no one will suspect a thing."

Once they were outside, past the large main gates and free, Harry quickly fell in step with Sigyn as she walked down the sidewalk into the heart of the city. Every few paces he had to check to make sure no one was trailing them.

"No one's coming, relax."

"Well can we at least get off the main roads? Go down an alley or something? Somebody's bound to notice me."

"So long as you wear that pendant, no one will recognize you."

He held the pendant between two fingers, a flat disc of hematite etched with symbols he didn't understand. "Can you at least tell me where we're going then, or what our plan is?"

"So full of questions," She answered with a calm smile. "First, we get lunch." 

* * *

Charmed amulet or not, Harry still fidgeted and glanced around the room, noting the exits and looking for anyone who might be watching them. Sigyn was still as calm as ever, sipping on her tea and looking like she'd done no more than gone shopping.

"Alright, I gotta know. How'd you do it? How'd you get me out without a single shot fired?" he whispered.

"You are fortunate your company kept your involvement out of the media as much as they could." She sipped her tea once more. "Your computer systems are primitive; it didn't take much to erase your medical records from Ravencroft, and I erased your involvement from police records. After that it was simply a matter of altering a few memories. By nightfall, no one who works there will remember you."

"You...did all of that in a few hours?"

She nodded. "It's time consuming but not difficult."

A waiter came by the table and Sigyn ordered enough food for the both of them. The T.V. over the pub's bar had the news on, flipping between a pair of news anchors at their desk and images of a bridge with a chunk taken out of its side. It had caused quite the buzz at Ravencroft; there was concern that, if it was more than someone with a few sticks of dynamite, they wouldn't be able to contain them at the facility. Still, for all the talk, he'd never imagined how much damage there'd be.

"That's insane," he murmured, not realizing he'd said it out loud.

The waiter turned and looked at the television. "I still can't believe it. My cousin lives over in that end of town and she said the traffic is terrible now with people trying to avoid the bridge."

"At least she's alive," Sigyn said.

"That's the weird thing. If you're trying to cause chaos, why do it in the middle of the night when there's practically no one on the bridge?"

"Who knows the inner workings of a madman?"

"Yeah, really. Anyway, I'll put these orders in for you."

Sigyn wouldn't look at him or the T.V. "Was that...?" he whispered once the waiter was gone.

"An accident. Had it worked, there would've been no damage."

Harry didn't ask what it was that was supposed to have worked. His memory of their last visit was coming back in sharper pieces. She had talked about moving on;  _I will go wherever the Fates take me._  "So why'd you come back? Not that I'm not grateful you got me out, but I never expected to see you again."

She stirred her tea, carefully mulling over her words. "I made a mistake wiping your memories and leaving you in that cell. I thought I was keeping you safe from both of our enemies. But the more I thought about it, the more wrong it felt to leave you behind."

It felt like there was a pebble lodged in Harry's throat when he swallowed. He'd spent so long being dumped and abandoned that his chest physically hurt at the thought of her coming back for him. "Yeah, but from the way you were talking, it sounded like you weren't even going to be on the same realm...planet...anymore."

"My plans changed."

"Because of me?"

"You and other things." He tracked her glance to the T.V., still focused on the bridge story. "For better or worse, Midgard is my home for the foreseeable future. And I don't think either of us has much in the way of friends right now."

"Friends." He hadn't considered anyone a friend since Peter and that had ended in disaster. Fiers wasn't one either; he was at best an associate and ever since his first meeting with Sigyn something about the man had unsettled him. Maybe it was because he'd never seen the man's face, or because the more he talked the more he felt like a cog in someone else's machine. A way into Oscorp's vaults. Sigyn had at least tried to help him. One of the runes behind his ear itched and he scratched at it. "Will you help with...this...whatever you did to control my disease?"

"Of course," she answered with a smile. "What kind of fairy godmother would I be if I didn't?"

He looked down at the table, trying to hide the fact that he was grinning. "Don't know where we'll go though. I'm pretty sure Oscorp sold my apartment and all my assets."

"An apartment is the easiest thing to replace," she said with a wave of her hand. The waiter came back with their food, and Harry's mouth started to water. Food at Ravencroft had been scarce and tasted like shit. His stomach growled, but he forced himself not to scarf his sandwich. Last thing he felt like doing was throwing up. There was a brief look of compassion in Sigyn's eyes before she continued. "What I need to know is who's still a threat. Who else knows about you?"

"Menken. I didn't get a chance to kill him. He was there when I..." He remembered the needle pricking his skin, that brief moment of sheer joy and hope that he might just be cured before it crashed in an instant. His hand trembled as he recalled the pain shooting through his veins.

The memory stopped when Sigyn placed her hand on his. "It's alright, Harry. I'll take care of Menken. Is there anyone else?"

"I'm sure he has cronies that will back him."

"Well, we'll see how long that lasts. Do you care about what happens to Menken?"

He shook his head. "Do what needs to be done."

The smile she gave was slight and deadly, promising blood and vengeance. And Harry would be lying if he wasn't just a little bit comforted by it.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The motel was filthy, and Harry wondered why Sigyn would have chosen this for herself. Even if she was trying to remain anonymous, there had to be better options than the run down crack motel. The bed creaked as he stretched out on it, the comforter made his skin itch and feel like something was crawling over it, and a broken coil poked his leg if he moved the wrong way. Even the T.V. was busted. He'd watched enough static ridden  news footage to be sick of it, so he put on some reality show he used to watch, but it too held nothing for him. That had belonged to someone else. He was not the Harry Osborn who had partied and drank and slept his way around Europe. Nor was he the Harry Osborn who returned to New York to see his dying father. He was no longer dying, and thus no longer the Harry Osborn desperate for survival. So who was he now?

A spider crawled across his hand and his instinct was to fling it across the room and away from him. But it would still be alive, and probably return to crawl all over him at some point. Like he had a feeling another certain spider would. Sigyn may have covered all other bases, but it was only a matter of time before Peter figured it out. He would come for Harry, most likely to kill him, or put him back in Ravencroft. Before Sigyn, before Fiers, he had set himself opposed to Spiderman when he put the venom in his veins. He was his creature now, a little goblin superimposed on Harry Osborn.

He grabbed the napkin that came with his dinner and scooped up the spider before crushing it in his fist and shooting it into the trash.

The more time that passed, the more Harry wished he had gone with Sigyn. Vengeance and the satisfaction of killing Menken should be his. But Sigyn had insisted he stay here; it was too dangerous for his new found freedom and 'innocence.' Besides, she'd argued, he'd deserved a night or two of rest.

Not that he could sleep, even if he wanted to. Sigyn had place glowing sigils on the walls to protect him, but he still feared that S.W.A.T. teams would bust down the door and haul him back to prison. Or just shoot him. Just the sound of someone walking down the hallway kept his mind awake, even if his body didn't have the strength to move himself from the bed.

_Well, the T.V.'s useless_ , he thought after the fifth round of flipping through channels and tossed the remote aside. Sigyn had left him no shortage of reading material. Newspapers, entertainment and educational magazines, including some special issue remembering the attack on New York. The kind with thick, glossy pages and better than average photo quality and a price tag three times the average magazine. It had a full section on each Avenger, and an even bigger section about the police and firemen who helped get people to safety. And of course there was a memorial section for all those who died. But where the spine was bent the most and the pages fell open easily was towards the end. There was a picture of Thor escorting Loki, who had a metal contraption around his mouth, presumably back to Asgard. 

He remembered that she never learned Loki's fate, a thought that left an uncomfortable feeling in his gut, and thought of her staring at this picture for who knows how long. This was probably the first time she'd seen him in over a year, and he was in chains. It was wrong, and Harry knew what he would do the moment he had access to a working computer.

 

* * *

 

Sigyn watched from deep in the shadows of Menken's penthouse, waiting. The man was paranoid, she'll give him that much. Still, she'd gotten past his security system and disabled what she could. The suite was armed but not bugged, which probably had something to do with the several pairs of lace undergarments in his room and the 'appointments' she found on his calendar, all at 11:00 pm on Saturday nights. Whatever he did in this apartment, he didn't want anyone knowing about it, which worked to her favor. She'd even contemplated putting on a disguise as one of his escorts to catch him off guard. But the thought of him touching her in any way repulsed her, and Amora had always been better at seduction. 

The door opened, and Menken meticulously laid his jacket and brief case on the chair as he came into the living room. He poured himself a glass of wine before sinking into the couch.

"Long day, Mr. Menken?" she asked after a few minutes, and he nearly spilled the wine all over himself. "Careful. Wouldn't want to ruin that suit of yours." She stepped out of the shadows, her hood still covering her face.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?"

"Friend of a friend." She sat in the chair beside the couch. It was an uncomfortable thing, hard with sharp square edges and practically no cushion. "And I'm here to warn you. You are in grave danger," she said with an ounce of artificial sweetness in her voice.

"That's why I have a security system, which you have somehow managed to get around."

"Then it must not be a very good one if  _I_ can get past it." She had placed her own barrier around the apartment in addition to disabling the phone and security system. If he tried to call for help, no one would come. "I take it the name Harry Osborn is familiar."

"Unfortunately. Why?"

"Because I have it on good authority that he has hired an assassin to kill you."

"I doubt it. The little creature is locked up at Ravencroft; he doesn't have the authority or means to hire anyone."

He was looking around for the remote to his security system. It was hidden under his seat, cloaked with just enough shadows to keep it out of sight. "Just telling you what I heard."

"Why tell me? And for that matter why should I believe you? The only suspicious one here is you. How do I know you're not the assassin?"

"The bastard owes me a great deal of money, and instead of paying me back, he chooses to waste what little money he has left on a hit job. I want it to fail. I want to see him squirm for screwing me out of what should have been mine.” The lie was well practiced and tailor made to strike a chord with Menken.

He took the bait. His hand trembled as he took a drink but the rest of the tension seemed to leave him. "To be honest, I hoped the little shit had died down in Special Projects. Or that Ravencroft would dispose of him properly."

Sigyn's fist clenched and she had to force herself to remain in her seat.  _Stick to the plan_. "Incompetence is a disease, I'm afraid. It must be destroyed at the earliest opportunity, lest it infect the entire enterprise."

"Someone with some common sense," he filled his glass a little more. "Norman was my friend, but he was a fool to leave Oscorp to that boy. Dying made him sentimental. Harry would have run the company into the ground and then die within ten years at the rate he was going. Everything his father built would be in ruins."

 "Ten years?"

 "If the disease wouldn't have killed him, his lifestyle would."

"Is that why you framed him? For the good of the company?"

He was silent for a moment, and she thought he wasn't going to answer the question. “As you said: incompetence is a disease that must be destroyed at the earliest opportunity."

Sigyn rose from the chair, and with a slight flick of her wrist she had thin golden binds strong as steel wrap around his arms, ankles, and torso. "I see." She pulled a piece of paper out from her jacket pocket and unfolded it. With another flick, the crease lines were gone, leaving a crisp sharp single sheet. She cleared her throat before reading from it.

"I, Donald Menken, of sound mind and body, do hereby confess my crimes. I ordered the criminal Max Dillon, also known as Electro, to be released from Ravencroft and ordered him to kill Harold Osborn. When my attempts to kill him failed, I blamed him for Dillon’s escape. My greed and ambition are responsible for those injured and killed during Dillon's attack on the city, and I can no longer live with their blood on my hands. May God have mercy on my soul."

"Let me guess: he wants that forgery planted on me when this assassin kills me."

"I don't know what you mean by forgery, Mr. Menken. You wrote it." She turned the paper around; the letter was written in his handwriting.

His eyes went wide and he tried to stand but the bonds held him down. "No! I didn't write that!"

"Sure looks like you did." She placed the letter down on the coffee table and retreated to the bathroom. As soon as she was gone, he started yelling for help and she could hear the couch scrape against the floor as he struggled. There were enough pill bottles in his bathroom to stock an apothecary, so she grabbed a couple bottles in each hand. "Oh, do stop yelling, Mr. Menken," she said as she returned to the living room. "No one's going to hear you."

"You said you weren't the assassin."

"I lied." She turned each bottle over, examining what is was and the required dosage and what shouldn't be mixed with what.

"Look, whatever the defective brat is offering you, I can double it."

_Defective brat_ set her nerves on edge. The man was fortunate she didn’t have a quick temper, otherwise he would find himself without a tongue. "It's not about money,” she snapped. “It's about justice for Harry. Or revenge. Doesn't really matter."

"Please, I will do anything, give you anything you want. Just name it."

"I already told you, it's not about the money. It's not about power, and it's not about what you can do for me." She rolled the pills around in her hand as another idea came to her. "But maybe it's about what you can do for Harry." She materialized another blank sheet of paper. "Survival has a cost, Mr. Menken, and it's not always a monetary one. You have to ask yourself: what are you willing to live with in order to stay alive?"

"Anything!"

"Then you will turn over all information about your colleagues. Anyone who might be a threat to Harry, I want their names and all the information you have on them. Your survival will cost their lives."

In the end, Menken sang a pretty traitor’s song, and there were several additional pages to his confession. "Are you going to let me go now? You promised."

"I did, didn't I?" She picked up the pill bottles again, dispensing a larger quantity into her hand. "And you believed me; that's incredible." He was still restrained and was struggling all the more to break free of them. "But for your cooperation, your death will be swift and relatively painless. Which is more than you deserve, considering how you were more than willing to let Harry die a painful death." 

"What is he to you? Who are you?"

"I suppose I should introduce myself." She pulled her hood back, and the color drained from Menken's face. The last minute touch was worth it just for this.

"Emily? No, that's impossible. You died nearly twenty years ago."

In her research on Menken, she found an old picture of him with Harry's father and mother, presumably before Harry was even born. The glamor was just the final detail to make this final night a little more horrifying. "Yes, well..." she poured the contents of a couple pill bottles into her hand and approached him. “Never underestimate the lengths a mother will go to protect her child."

 

* * *

 

Harry didn't remember falling asleep, but when he woke the sun was coming through the blinds and directly into his eyes. He rolled around so that his back was to the window and saw Sigyn sitting on the other bed, staring down at the same magazine he'd been looking at last night. “Morning, little goblin.”

"Hey. When'd you come back?" He asked as he pushed himself upright. "I didn't hear you come in."

"Thought I'd let you sleep." She closed the magazine and shuffled it back in with the rest. "You haven't slept in a proper bed for months."

"Not sure I'd call this a proper bed." His neck was stiff, so he rolled it a few times before he heard that satisfying  _pop_. "How, uh, how'd it go?" 

She picked up a newspaper next to her and gently tossed it onto his bed. "See for yourself."

His hands trembled as he picked up the paper. The headline read in big bold letters:  **OSCORP CEO FOUND DEAD IN SUICIDE.** He skimmed over the article, too eager to read it in depth. There had been a suicide note where he confessed to unleashing Dillon, and several high ranking executives were being investigated or arrested as well. The remaining executives were meeting to decide what should be done. Harry figured Oscorp's stock would take a hit but he'd take it. Menken's suicide and confession, plus Sigyn's work at Ravencroft, destroyed any connections from being drawn between him and Electro and Gwen Stacy's death. "This is quite a homecoming present. Thank you."

"I know you would have liked to have been there, but I promise when the time comes, you will have your chance for a greater revenge."

"Spiderman." Her grin matched his; already this partnership was turning out to be more promising. "So what's our next move?"

Sigyn got up and sat on his bed, handing him a flash drive. "We're keeping your freedom quiet for a while. Spiderman knows what really happened that night and the last thing we need is his involvement. But if you want to keep your ties to Oscorp, then you will need a new council. A group of competent men who will keep your company afloat, but who aren't so ambitious as to take your place. An ambitious man is a dangerous man."

"Competent but not ambitious, got it." He could only guess that there were the names and files of possible candidates on the drive, probably pulled from Menken's computer before his death. "I'm going to need access to a better computer." He thought of contacting Felicia, she might have some ideas, but she was most likely long gone. Not that he could blame her. Losing two bosses in less than a summer is plenty enough incentive to leave. "So that's it, then? I still own Oscorp and no one else suspects I..."  _That I killed Gwen or released Max_. "No one suspects my involvement?"

"No one of importance, at any rate."

"And my estate?"

"Still owned by Oscorp and belongs to you, if you want it."

That's the thing, he didn't. Spiderman...Peter...knew where he lived, and when word eventually got out that he'd returned, because it was bound to happen sooner or later, this would be the first place he'd come looking. Sigyn may be powerful, but if Peter shows up with cops or SHIELD or the Avengers, he wasn't sure even she could keep them safe. But he longed for his own bed, and the thought of spending another night in a cheap motel on another uncomfortable bed was unappealing. If they kept everything quiet, a few days at his old place while they searched for a new one shouldn't be a problem.

 

* * *

 

Six months since he was last in it and the estate had barely been touched. A thick layer of dust clung to everything and dust particles floated in the light coming from the large windows. Everything felt cold, an echo from the past. This didn’t feel like a homecoming; this felt like walking into a crypt.

Glass crunched beneath his boots. When he threw the glass at Spider-Man he never bothered picking it up and it seemed to one else had either. He still had a scar where one of the pieces had cut his cheek.  _You're a fraud, Spider-Man!_

Sigyn opened one of the windows and the sounds of city below came rushing in, nearly taking the air from his lungs. "Close it," he rasped.

"This place needs air."

"Sigyn, please. What if someone notices? Or Spider-Man flies by and sees me in here or..." His heart was racing again, and he felt the need to run as fast as he could away from this place. 

The window clicked as it shut and Sigyn approached him. "Harry, no one is going to know you're here. I'm going to spend the rest of the evening putting my own security around this place, and by the time I'm done, this place will be as secure as Odin's treasure room. But if you are still uncomfortable staying here we can find someplace else."

Her hand was on his shoulder, and whether by her magic or not his heart rate slowed down. "What would you do?"

She inhaled and looked around the mansion. "This place can be made a fortress, more so than any penthouse, as your friend Menken found out. A few servants have been maintaining this place, so any activity will attributed to them, and Oscorp keeping your involvement quiet means no one will bother looking here. You know this place, you know the people who work here. This place is under your control. My fear is that you will lose that advantage if we move someplace else."

Despite how uneasy as this place made him, she was right; all servants were made to sign a non-disclosure agreement upon their employment, especially once his father started getting worse. He could always hold them to that. And if Sigyn had gotten him out of Ravencroft without any trouble, she could surely keep them safe here. "Make me a fortress, then."

 

* * *

 

He didn't see much of Sigyn for the rest of the day until he brought her the Chinese food he'd picked up for dinner. Getting out of the house had been his big achievement, even if he wore a hoodie and dark glasses, had the driver use the oldest car, and practically sprinted from the car to the restaurant and back. Knowing his luck Peter would either walk into the exact same restaurant or swing over it.

While she worked, Harry looked at the flashdrive in his hand. He should be going through it, picking out a new council, but he was exhausted and a full stomach was making him sluggish. His laptop was still good, though the updates took forever, so he settled himself onto the couch with the laptop propped up on his legs. There was some news story about the Avengers and their new tower on the home page, and he remembered there was something he needed to do first.

Most pictures of Loki were like the ones he found in that magazine: muzzled with Thor leading him on a leash. That's how everyone wanted to remember him: the would-be tyrant brought to heel. But he did manage to find others that showed him the way Sigyn described him. Commanding, regal, his arms outstretched before a kneeling audience. Even if the golden horned helmet looked like something out of a fucking opera, there was no mistaking Loki for anything other than a king. Someone must have managed to take it during his visit to Stuttgart. The picture was high enough definition he could zoom in and not lose the details.

_Thank god for smartphones._

 

* * *

 

He found Sigyn much later that night in her wing of the estate, staring out one of the windows. She'd taken the guest room and moved a desk in there so she had someplace to work. The room still felt...empty. Sigyn had only a single bag with a few clothes and things shed managed to pick up since coming here. 

"Your fortress is secure," she didn’t turn towards him, but he could hear the exhaustion in her voice. "I'll double check in the morning, but we'll be safe tonight."

"You heard me?" He'd tried to be quiet so as not to disturb her. His hands gripped the present he held behind his back a little tighter as he approached.

"Your stealth needs work. I could hear you coming from halfway down the hall." Once he got closer, he realized she was staring up at the night sky. 

"Can you see Asgard from here?" It was probably a dumb question, but it was the only thing he could think of given how intently she was staring at the sky."

"No." There was a touch of sadness to her voice. "Even if you could see all the stars, Asgard is too far to be seen from Earth. None of the Nine Realms can be seen from the other, save for by Heimdal or the Hlidskjalf."

"The what?"

"Odin's throne. It grants him power similar to Heimdal's and lets him see into all the realms."

"Great. A mystical grandfather who creeps on everyone from a chair that sounds like someone sneezed." She laughed at that, and while he was glad to see her break her pensive mood, he worried that she was masking her fear that they were being watched. "Think he can see us right now?"

"Not here," she said with a final glance towards the sky. "Besides I'm sure there's other more pressing matters for him to keep an eye on." She noticed his hands behind her back and tilted her head. "What's that?"

Harry brought the gift forward, suddenly feeling awkward. "It's, uh, a thank you and a housewarming gift. I couldn’t find any cards that said "hey thanks for busting me out of prison, killing one of my enemies and giving me my life back."

It was wrapped in an old pillow case and she slowly pulled the gift out. The frame was old, something that once held one of those really formal professional looking photos of him and his father. The frame was nice though, wooden and detailed, but not overly ornate. And in it was the picture he found online. Her fingers brushed along the image, lingering on Loki's face. "Those magazines are full of shit anyway. Tryin' to make people feel good about the terrible shit that's happened by putting it in some glossy collectable. Anyway… you should have a better picture of him than the one they've been selling."

There were tears in her eyes, and then threw her arms around him in a hug. "Thank you, little goblin."

He froze, awkwardly patting her on the shoulder, but was glad she liked it nonetheless. "You're welcome."

 She pulled away, smiling, the picture clutched to her chest. "We should get some rest. I have a feeling the next few days are going to be very busy."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

 

Harry looked at the faces around the table and remembered why he hated these conferences. None of the men or women would look at him, all of them apparently fascinated by the table or their notepads. If he were to guess correctly, none of them expected to see him sitting at the head of the table, and no doubt they felt he shouldn’t be there. Still, these were his best options. They’d have to do.

"I'll get right to the point, since I'm sure you’re all wondering why you're here." They all slowly looked up at him. "Good news: you're all being promoted." That had their attention; money has that effect on people. "You're going to run this company for me, manage day to day operations as usual, and keep me informed of any major situations and decisions." They all looked at each other, waiting for someone to ask what was on everyone's mind. "Any questions?"

"What's the catch?" A middle aged woman asked. Her mousy brown hair was pulled back into a low bun, and she looked at him over her thin framed glasses. "There's always a catch."

"The catch is that after you leave here, you're each going to meet with Legal and sign confidentiality agreements. You’re not going to mention me at all, to anyone. Let's let the dust settle from the latest series of scandals before we announce my return."

"The investors might feel more assured if there was a clear leader. Norman's son would make for an inspiring face of this company."

"Oh and I will soon enough." He clicked his pen a few times out of nervous habit. "But for now let it be. I already made the investors nervous before everything Menken did. Give it a few more years, and I promise you will be rewarded for your cooperation."

The remaining details were hammered out over the next few hours, leaving Harry with a pounding headache in his temples. 

"You did well, little goblin." Sigyn had been there the entire time, acting as his new assistant 'Victoria', though no one had paid any attention to her.

"So that's it? I'm technically head of Oscorp again." She walked over to the windows, silently looking out over the city. "What is it?"

"Forgive me, my mind was elsewhere."

Elsewhere was most likely the Avenger's tower directly across the skyline. He'd catch her staring at it from the mansion as well, even though the view wasn't nearly as good. "We've taken every precaution, haven't we? They shouldn't figure out we're here." If she was concerned, he should be as well.

"Don't worry, little goblin. We will still need to be careful, but we should be fine."

"Then what is it? You look worried."

"I heard stories of Loki standing on the top of that very tower and opening a portal to space so that his alien army could conquer Earth. It's just strange seeing it from here."

"It is a little Two Towers, isn't it?" She looked at him with one eyebrow arched, and he remembered that she probably didn't get that reference. "It's from a movie...never mind." The old patch on his neck started to itch, and he tried to discreetly scratch it.

"Do we know who's there now?"

"Stark for sure; it's his tower, he lives there. Who knows where Thor is if he’s not in Asgard.” Sigyn shrugged in response. “I'd assume Captain America and Banner live there at least part time, not sure about the others. Do we have an attack plan already?”

"Oh no, neither of us are ready for that yet." The stupid thing on his neck would not stop itching. He kept picking at it, the edges of the scab getting under his nails. And a sharp pain ripped across his neck when he caught enough of it to pull back and he yelped.

Sigyn's head whipped around, and she approached, gently pulling his hand away from his neck. "Picking at this will not help it heal."

"It bothers me from time to time, usually when I'm stressed."

"And my advice still stands: picking at it will not help. I have something to help with the itching." Her brow furrowed slightly. "But I would like to re-examine the runes I placed on you."

"Is there a problem?" He asked, trying not to sound like his heart was pounding just a little.

"No. Maybe. The spell was done in haste the first time, and I would like to make sure it was as effective as it should’ve been.”

Harry nodded. He'd avoided most doctors’ appointments for the past few years out of fear. If he never went, they couldn’t tell him he had his father’s disease. It had been better to run from his problems, and if they caught up with him to drown them in whisky. Even if he had gone to them, the best of Earth's medical science had failed his father, and it would have failed him too. At least Sigyn's attempts were _working_ , and at this rate he'd trust her over anyone with a string of letters at the end of their name.

 

* * *

 

Whatever it was that Sigyn had put on his neck both felt and looked like dried mud. It clung onto his skin like a cracked, dark brown scab, and it reminded him of those mud masks you could get at spas. It smelled of damp earth and some kind of plant. But his neck had stopped itching and stinging so he was willing to put up with it. 

Sigyn had asked him to wait in his bedroom while she gathered any materials she might need, and he found himself sitting cross-legged on the bed, absently drumming on the mattress with his fingers. He’d thrown a towel from the bathroom over the mirror he wouldn't accidentally catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He may not look like a walking, mutated corpse anymore, but the last time he looked in the mirror he saw the Goblin staring back at him and he couldn't bring himself to look at it yet.

After an hour passed, and he’d gone through every game on his phone, Sigyn entered the bathroom carrying a tray. On it were two bowls, several finely tipped brushes, several sketches of what looked like some kind of bizarre symbol, some bandages, a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. What was inside the one bowl looked a little like whatever she had put on his neck, except it was smoother in texture and lighter in color, more of a grey beige than dark brown. The other held some kind of pale cream. "What's all this for?"

"If my theory is correct, you'll need something stronger to control the mutation," she answered, placing the tray on the bed. He sat up further, allowing her to place her fingertips behind his ears. "This part will only take a moment; just try to keep your breathing steady." Her touch was gentle, but the way her brow furrowed made him uneasy.

“What is it?”

“I was right; what I did at Ravencroft wasn’t enough.” She took one of his hands and held it just behind his earlobe. “Feel that?” There was a small raised, uneven bump. “That’s a binding rune. I had hoped this would be enough given the extremely limited resources I was working with.”

“But it wasn’t.” He felt behind his other ear and found the same thing. “What if you hadn’t come back? What would have happened to me?”

“I don’t know.” _At least she’s honest,_ he thought, even as all the various horrible possibilities played in his mind. “But that doesn’t matter now. The important thing is that I did come back. Now, where did Menken inject the venom?”

He held out his right arm. The transformation itself was a blur of searing pain and cracked bones, but he remembered everything that lead up to that moment, when he demanded that Menken inject him with poison. “Forearm, just below the elbow.”

Sigyn picked up the bowl and the brushes and sat them beside her. "I'll be painting a different rune right...here," she said, gently tapping his arm. "This should be able to better help you keep this mutation under your control."

"So...what it's like some kind of magical tattoo?"

"You could say that."

All of this seemed too good to be true. Still, he had done far worse to himself in the name of finding a cure. "Hmm. I guess it beats the hell out of any other tattoo I was going to get."

She chuckled, stirring one of the brushes into the liquid. "No one will have anything else like it, that's for sure."

The more she stirred whatever it was in that bowl, the stronger it smelled of damp earth, moss, and something vaguely metallic and a little sour. "God that smells terrible."

"Magic isn't all pretty lights and fairy dust, little goblin." She set the bowl down beside him and steadied his arm in one hand, her brush in the other. "Sometimes, it's the darker side of magic that works best." Whatever the mixture was, it felt cold against his skin as soon as the brush touched his arm. The brush was incredibly find tipped, and he could just barely feel each movement. Still, he watched, fascinated. She started with a small circle, with eight spokes radiating out from it. Each spoke contained a different forked design, some curved, some straight, some with varying horizontal lines underneath the forks.

"You might want to breathe. This next part won't be pleasant." Her hand covered the design and she murmured something in a language he didn't understand. He had enough time to take a few deep breaths before the burning set in. The heat started gentle enough, but with each breath it grew hotter until it felt like whatever this symbol was had been seared into his skin. It worked its way in a circle, like a lit fuse making its way from one end to the other, and radiated outward, creeping up the veins in his arms towards his neck and shoulder.

“Sigyn,” he whimpered. He knew the bitter taste in the back of his throat, and the way his skin felt like it wasn’t his. His teeth and nails grew longer, and he realized he was snarling at her without realizing it. That other part of himself, the part she had named the Goblin, was trying to fight back, and were it not for her vice like grip on his arm it might have. _Trust her_ , he told himself. _She won’t do anything that will kill you_. He hissed, growled, and spat, squirming as she held his arm still. His other hand was still free, and he dug his nails into the mattress so he wouldn’t take a swing at her, even if doing so would have made the pain stop. _Trust her. You’ve survived worse._ Tears stung his eyes and he ground out curses through gritted teeth until something in him clicked. The Goblin stopped fighting as the pain began to subside. Her other hand rested on the back of his head, gently patting at his hair.

"I’m sorry that was painful. But you did well, little goblin.” She removed her hand from the back of his head and the other from around his arm, and brushed away what looked like dark grey ashes from his arm. The mark wasn’t black, the way a modern tattoo would be, and yet it was still too dark to look like a natural scar; it was a grey brown that seemed to have a green iridescence to it when he moved his arm. The lines were thinner and little rough in the way hand done tattoos can be, and the pronged ends seemed to fade into his skin, not end in harsh lines. It throbbed with a dull pain and the skin was tender.

“The hell’d you do to me?”

"I burned the tattoo into your skin with magic." She picked up the roll of bandages and small bowl with a pale cream off the tray and set it beside her. “It could have been much worse. Traditionally, the design would have been poked into your skin. I thought this would be easier for you.”

“I appreciate that, I guess.” The cream felt cool and soothing against his skin as she gently patted it against his arm with her fingers, and he let out a long, exhausted sigh. He could easily fall asleep on the tile floor while she wrapped his arm if he wanted to. “What’s this thing supposed to do anyway?”

“It will help keep your mutation from controlling you; keep you from getting lost in that form.” She reached for the two glasses and the bottle of whiskey. “You’ll need some training of course, but that can wait until the mark has healed.” She poured it into both of the glasses and handed one to him.

“What's that for?"

"Celebration. You've earned it. I’ve seen some Asgardians fall apart when they get one."

The whisky burned a little on the way down, but nothing compared to what he'd just been through. He wondered if she was lying to boost his ego. “Really? The immortal space Vikings can’t handle getting a tattoo?”

“Not when there’s that much magic coursing through their veins.” She swirled the whiskey around in her glass. “You’re remarkably calm about all of this.”

He shrugged. “Not the worst thing I’ve done to stay alive.” Yes, this had been painful, but nothing compared to his bones twisting and breaking when the spider venom took over or the way it had burned its way through him. He looked at the bandage around his arm, and felt the closest thing to hope he’d felt since this whole nightmare started. “What about you and Loki? Either of you have any magical tattoos?” He asked, taking a drink.

“No,” she answered, staring into her glass. “No, we never got around to that.”

Right, so Loki was still a touchy subject. He remembered a little of how she spoke of him when Harry was still in Ravencroft, of his mastery of magic and tricks played on his brother. There was no story here, or if there was, it wasn’t going to be told tonight. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s not your fault, Harry. I’m just tired.” She took another long drink of whisky and finished off her glass. “The truth is there was a lot more Loki and I wanted to do before everything went to hell, as your people put it.”

“Was New York part of your plans?” Not that her answer would have changed anything, but he’d been curious ever since he remembered who she was married to.

“New York was _his_ plan.”

“You don’t have to lie, you know. I’m not going to kick you out because you and your husband tried to take over the world.”

She chuckled and put her glass as well as his back on the tray. “It’s no lie; I knew nothing of Loki’s plan until Thor was sent back to Earth. Until then I thought he was dead.”

“That must’ve been hard.” His filter was gone, either by the alcohol, the magic, or both; otherwise he would not have kept bringing up Loki’s fate. Exhaustion crept through his body and his eyelids felt heavy. “Finding out like that.”

“It wasn’t ideal.” She leaned over and gently ruffled his hair before taking the whiskey glass from his hand. “No more questions for tonight. You’ve been through quite enough tonight and need your rest.”

Harry rolled his eyes, the phrase ‘But Mom I’m not even tired’ unspoken on his tongue. He yawned and leaned over and hit the pillow with a soft thump. For the first night in a long while, he welcomed sleep.

 

* * *

 

It took Harry nearly a week of training before he got to the point where he felt enough control to try his transformation on his own without Sigyn talking him through it. Sitting alone in his room, cross legged on the bed, he brought his hand to his face and gently felt around his newly changed features. His skin’s texture was uneven, unnaturally smooth in some places and rough in others (especially around his cheek scars). His lips were cracked and dry, and behind them were teeth sharpened into points. Even the tip of his nose felt like it came to more of a defined point, and he gently poked it with one of his nails, which were now extended into sharp, curved claws. It still didn’t feel…right, but Sigyn had said it would still feel like that for a while, like he didn’t belong in his own skin. Part of his training was to accept that this was part of him.

Harry slid off the bed and walked over to the towel covered mirror. During his other attempts he’d kept the towel over it, unable to look at his reflection without feeling horrified. The mirror they’d given him at Ravencroft was damaged, warped, so after that first transformation he’d never been faced with an accurate reflection. He grabbed a fistful of the material, intent to yank it off and face his reflection fully. But he held it there, frozen, his heart rate quickened, and both his breath and his hands were shaking. Instead, he pulled back a corner, enough for a peek at green tinged skin and angular features before letting it fall again. _Monster_.

Allowing the transformation was easier than pulling it back, even with his new mark. His arm throbbed, and he swore there was a faint glow to it if the room was dark enough. Joints and skin seemed to settle back into their usual places, and his hands looked human again. He peeked back underneath the towel and made sure that every speck of his transformation was gone. His lips still felt a little dry and tight as he grinned. He couldn’t wait to tell Sigyn, and hurried out of his room to find her.

Her usual hangouts were empty. The bedroom and the adjoining room she’d claimed as her ‘office’ were empty, as were the kitchen and the other main living spaces. Sigyn had a fascination with watching and critiquing bad sitcoms, so he could usually find her relaxing in front of the giant flat screen with a bag of Doritos. But the mansion seemed empty, but when he passed the main study—his father’s old study, the one he was never allowed in as a child—he heard voices. More like a single voice, Sigyn’s, speaking in hushed tones. He pressed his ear to the door but still couldn’t make out anything she was saying.

His father always used to keep the doors locked, but it seemed Sigyn hadn’t bothered to do the same. He slowly pushed down the door handle so that it would make the least amount of noise possible, and pushed the door open just enough to peer into the room.

Harry’s breath caught in his throat, and his eyes went wide. It was only the profile he saw, but he knew it well enough. Loki stood in the middle of the room, staring at the far wall, motionless and blank faced. He could hear Sigyn’s footsteps, hear her mumbling, but she was out of view. _She lied_. He thought, the realization making his stomach turn and the mark on his arm ache and burn. _She’s been in contact with him the whole time. She’s using me…just like everyone else._

Sigyn walked into view, and Loki’s gaze followed her. In her hand was a picture frame, the one he’d given her. She stopped in front of him and studied the picture, looking up at Loki then back to the picture. “You were always so much better at this than I was,” she sighed, her voice heavy with weariness, and waved her fingers in front of his face.

Harry’s eyes narrowed, his brow furrowing together. _The hell kind of witchcraft is this?_ It was Sigyn he was looking at, but the moonlight she looked…off. Exhaustion seemed to carve deep shadows into her face; she looked like she hadn’t slept in days.

Loki never spoke; he would only watch her as she worked. Occasionally, she would command a facial movement from him –“Smile,” “growl,” “look like you’re going to kill the All-Father for what he did,”—but each time she shook her head and waved her fingers in front of him again. She sighed and dragged her hand through her hair. “Look at me like you did when we first met.”  He couldn’t see what that particular expression looked like, but the way Sigyn relaxed told him it was accurate. She set the picture down on the desk and stepped forward. Her hand hovered over his cheek. “Darling…” Once her hand touched his cheek, Loki dissolved into gold and green light. Sigyn seemed to deflate as soon as he was gone. She dropped her arm to her side and her head tilted down so her hair obscured her face. Her shoulders shook as she inhaled sharply to keep from sobbing.

Harry backed away from the door, his voyeurism leaving him with a new sick feeling in his stomach. Whatever he’d witnessed, he wasn’t meant to see it and he felt all the more guilty for doubting her. He’d taken for granted how lonely this place must be for her and the amount of uncertainty she had to live with. It was a feeling he knew too well, to be left behind in an unfamiliar place, alone. There was little he could do to help her; he couldn’t give her any answers about Loki or get her home, but he did know how to distract them from what they’d been through. In a way they were both free, and Harry was thinking it was time they both reveled in that freedom.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Sigyn watched the buildings pass her by as the car drove them further into the city. Not as tall as imposing as the grand palace in Asgard, but still impressive. Beside her, Harry was bouncing his leg and twirling the pendant she’d given him when she broke him out of Ravencroft between his fingers. Even in the car, he covered his eyes with large, dark sunglasses.

“You’re sure you want to do this?” she asked. The outing had been his idea, but she wasn’t going to make him go through this if he changed his mind. “We can go back if you’re not comfortable.”

“Uh, no because I’ve been getting cabin fever and if I don’t get out and do something other than meditate on this thing,” he pushed up his sleeve to reveal his tattoo. “I’m going to lose my mind…again.” He paused. “Besides, we could both use the fresh air.”

She instinctively reached over and pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. “You don’t feel like you have a fever.”

“Not an actual fever. It’s just an expression. Means I’m tired of being cooped up in the mansion all day. Seriously, we have got to get out more.”

“You keep saying _we_. I don’t think I have this illness you speak of.”

He sighed and looked over at her, and she could almost feel the disbelieving look he was giving her from behind his glasses. “When was the last time you went outside? I mean, I kind of have an excuse with the whole technically being a criminal with a local superhero that doesn’t realize that I’m free yet.”

“Is that what this is? You’re worried that this Spiderman will show up?”

He snorted. “Not unless there’s a kitten that needs to be rescued from the top of the Saks building.”

It was all bravado. Harry may have been feeling restless at the mansion, but he kept watching the buildings as they passed, no doubt waiting for Spiderman to swing down from one of them. “Harry.” He looked over at her and she gave him a knowing look.

He tugged at the pendant again. “He can’t like…sense through this, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean on the off chance he does show up on 5th Avenue, is there any way his whole spider sense thing will go off and he’ll be able to tell it’s me?”

“Harry, I promise that my Asgardian magic is stronger than whatever his abilities are.”

The car stopped somewhere around 5th Avenue at Harry’s request, and he hesitated before finally stepping out of the car and onto the sidewalk. Sigyn followed shortly behind him and Harry ordered that the car pick them up when he called. He kept a close eye on the buildings that rose up around them, scanning them for any trace of webbing.

“I swear watching out for him is just as bad as watching for paparazzi,” he grumbled. “At least all they wanted a picture of me doing Jell-O shots off a model’s stomach that they could sell for a few grand.”

Sigyn had no idea what the paparazzi or Jell-O shots were, but it brought Menken’s comment about Harry’s lifestyle back to her. _Ten years…and his lifestyle would have killed him_. “Remember what I told you when we left Ravencroft. Humans are…unobservant. Act like nothing’s wrong, and they won’t notice you. Your Spiderman is no different.”

Harry looked down at the pendant again and tucked it beneath his shirt. “I hope you’re right.”

“So little faith.” He led her down the street, occasionally stopping and admiring the clothes and jewelry displayed in the windows.  He made sure to point out the different brands, explaining why one was more expensive than the other. “What are we doing out here anyway? Getting rid of your cabin fever, as you put it, could have been done anywhere.”

“Because what better way to finish off a long and productive couple of weeks than by spending a ridiculous amount of money.”

“Are you sure that’s wise? Shouldn’t your funds go towards something more practical?”

Harry tilted his head back and groaned. “Where’s the fun in that? I have more than enough money for the occasional shopping trip. Besides,” he pulled her towards one of the stores. “We have new lives now. New lives call for new wardrobes.”

The store was immaculate, with clothing folded into neat little piles and every piece of merchandise arranged in a particular manner so that it looked interesting and dynamic. Once he was in the store and off the street, Harry was more confident. When the salesperson approached them and offered assistance, he answered with a charming smile that they were just looking.

It had been many years since her last visit to Midgard, and she’d never paid much attention to what their currency was worth. Her first few days on Earth had been, chaotic, fearful, desperate, and the last thing on her mind had been money. She’d lied, stole, and when those failed, she used her magic to get what she needed. So when she turned over the price tag on a leather jacket and saw the series of numbers, she wasn’t sure how to react.

“You should get that.” Harry said, coming up to her. He looked at the price tag and shrugged. “Not bad.”

“You are aware I could just…make new clothes.” She whispered, waving her fingers through the air. “I’ve been doing that since I got here.” What she hadn’t magicked into existence she’d stolen from a thrift shop, or just tricked someone into giving to her.

Harry shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s…that’s not the point. The point is to buy yourself something expensive just because we can. Or if that’s not enough think of the energy you’ll save if you don’t have to create a wardrobe from scratch every day.”

“Perhaps. Still seems extravagant, though.” It was hypocritical of her to talk about finery and extravagance, and to reject it as she was. She may not have coveted them the way some did, but she did have quite a few elegant dresses that she loved wearing, that Loki loved seeing her in. But that felt like a lifetime ago. _I should be trying to find out what happened to Loki or helping Harry…_ Harry, though, looked content trying on some jacket nearby; it was the happiest she’d seen him look since she freed him from Ravencroft. He’d been so happy to get out of the mansion and do something normal, that Sigyn’s guilt and resistance faded. “Perhaps we should go to a few more stores,” she suggested when he wandered back her way.

“Good idea,” he said, grinning. “I’m not seeing anything here I like.”

Harry was a little more confident as he led her down the street, alert, but less paranoid. He made sure to point out the various stores that they passed, sharing his opinion on each one—“absolute trash…pretty good but kind of overpriced for what you’re getting…oh hell no I had an ex that loved that brand never again…”—before finally dragging her into a department store. “I need a new watch,” he explained. “My last one was damaged, and I don’t feel like spending the thousands of dollars to replace it.”

“I thought the whole point was to spend as much money as possible,” she teased.

“No I said the point was to treat yourself. And I will; I’ll just be a bit more practical about it.” He gave her a proud grin. “Besides, I’m going to need something that’s easy to replace when I break this one in a month.”

“A month? I think you’re being a bit ambitious. There’s still much we need to work on.”

“Well, no progress was ever made without being ambitious.”

The watches were in the jewelry section of the store, and as Harry browsed through them, Sigyn wandered just a bit farther to look at the rest of what the rest of the store had to offer. She lingered in the shoe department, admiring several pairs of stylish, yet comfortable looking boots. Shoes weren’t any more difficult to create with magic than any other piece of clothing, but it’d be nice not to have to focus on them as well. And after looking at the price tag stuck to the bottom, she didn’t think buying them would be a completely outrageous investment.

“Can I help you, miss?”

The girl was maybe a little older than Harry, with auburn hair pulled back into a low bun and managing to look both polite and bored. When Sigyn asked for a pair in what she guessed was her size, the girl looked her up and down before asking if she was certain about _this pair._

She knew that tone; she’d heard it whispered in Asgard’s halls about her when her marriage to Loki was first announced, or from her mother whenever she chose to spend her afternoons pouring over a magical text than spend a few extra hours in the training yard. It was disapproving, suspicious, and she realized that this girl didn’t think she was wealthy enough to purchase them. Sigyn stood a little taller, a little straighter, her chin tipped up. _I may be in exile, but she is still speaking to a princess of Asgard_. “Yes, this pair,” she answered in a cool, clipped voice.

As soon as she was gone, Sigyn’s interest in the boots soured. For a moment, she entertained the notion of conjuring some kind of mischief as payback for the girl’s attitude, but she lacked the energy or the will to follow through with it. It would be a foolish thing to do, too dangerous to risk it on their first major outing since freeing Harry. So instead she slipped away, ducking into another department, checking from behind a pillar to make sure the girl didn’t decide to search the store for her. From here she could see the girl looking around, annoyed, but she didn’t go any further that the shoe department before giving up.

After exploring the rest of the first floor, Sigyn made her way up to the second floor, wandering through the sections of expensive clothes. All the while, she could feel that she was being watched, and she regretted not making a pendant like the one she made for Harry for herself. She’d just assumed that since she was an unknown, it wouldn’t matter, and she was kicking herself for forgetting about status and dress. The handbag section was far less crowded, with only the occasional salesperson patrolling the floor. She could feel them watching her, but they seemed content just to let her look around.

The sheer variety and number of bags was amazing. Purses in Asgard were often crafted by master leather smiths, but where they may vary in size or ornamentation, here they came in more styles, colors, sizes, and materials than she had seen in Asgard. One in particular caught her eye. It was, according to the tag, a large tote. The inside was quite spacious, with room for several books, her research, a small weapon, or anything else she wanted to carry with her. There were even several smaller small pockets and discreet compartments, which was such a silly thing for her to be excited over and yet she was. The leather was soft to the touch and a shade of rich, deep warm brown, yet it still felt sturdy and durable. It was an upgrade from her current bag. That one she’d stolen from a thrift store when she realized she needed something to carry what few belongings she’d accumulated since her exile, made of a thread-bare, dirty beige canvas with a small hole in the corner that threatened to rip further apart with each use.

“Nice choice,” Harry said, coming up behind her. He had a small bag in one hand and his sunglasses were back on. “You should get that.”

She turned the bag over in her hands once or twice more. It was exquisite, and was at the least something it was something practical. And she almost agreed with him, until she noticed the way Harry fidgeted and picked at his shirt sleeve. Even behind the sunglasses she could see him glance around, always aware of their surroundings. They’d been in one place too long; no doubt Harry worried someone would notice them.

“Another time, perhaps.” He raised his eyebrows and she could already hear him chastising her for not understanding how shopping worked. “Don’t look at me like that. I’d like to see what my options are. Contrary to what I’m sure you’re thinking I do know what I’m doing.”

“Does Asgard have anything like this?” he asked once they were back on the street.

“Just outside the palace was a large, open air market filled with goods from all the nine realms. The buildings may not be as tall, but the stands spread out for almost as many miles. And on Vanaheim, imagine all this,” she gestured to the buildings and shops, “but every couple of weeks they pack up and move to another quadrant.”

He gave a low whistle. “A moveable 5th Avenue? Nice. Tell me more about Vanaheim.”

* * *

Harry closed the store’s app on his phone and pocketed it, checking to make sure Sigyn hadn’t crept up behind him. That bag had been perfect for her, and she deserved to have something nice.

They’d stopped in the Barnes and Noble because Sigyn couldn’t pass up the giant bookstore, and he’d told her he needed to use the restroom while she was wandering around the store. It was one of those giant, two story ones with a large café area, and it didn’t take him long to realize she wasn’t on the second floor, where he was. Still, he couldn’t remember the last time he was in a bookstore, and something had been nagging at his curiosity for the past few days. He snuck over to the ‘mythology’ section, which to his surprise, comprised only a shelf and a half before the westerns took over. With an actual Norse god flying around these days, he figured there’d be a little more literature on the subject.

The first book he grabbed was small and only offered a basic overview of the major stories and gods. Sigyn had only a single mention as Loki’s wife. He frowned and skimmed through the pages towards the index; she must be mentioned more than once. The next one wasn’t much better; just a single mention as his wife. His hand hovered over another one, something called the Poetic Edda whatever that meant, and was about to pull it out, but the sound of footsteps nearby kept him from doing so. It wasn’t Sigyn, just someone who worked there, but the thought of her catching him reading about her left him with the same ill, guilty feeling in his stomach as the other night. Like he was prying into something he shouldn’t. He took note of whatever these Eddas were, anyway, in case curiosity got the better of him again.

* * *

Deep in the bowels of Oscorp, Special Projects lay in a state of near ruin. Exposed wiring and pipes lined the room like veins and bones. Everything half-flickered to life once they turned the lights on. Construction had just begun, but Sigyn could see the new design taking shape amongst the destruction. A base of operations hidden beneath Oscorp.

“They’ve made good progress.”

“Thank God,” he said, looking over a box of computer parts still left to be installed. “Last week I thought they’d never be done.”

 “Patience. Better this is done correctly than quickly.”

Still, Sigyn wondered if a little speed wouldn’t hurt. They were safe at the mansion, but their plans were at a standstill without someplace to plan and carry out larger operations.  This place was efficient, industrial, but cold. More importantly, it was a place of memories. _Are you certain_ , she’d asked when he first posed the idea to her. _This is where the Goblin was born_. _Seems fitting that we use it for one of our bases_. Menken had hoped that Harry would die down in Special Projects, and Sigyn couldn’t help but enjoy the irony that it had instead been a place of rebirth.

“It’s a shame we can’t get started on anything until they’re done,” he said as he pulled out his tablet. “I’ve got redesigns for both the suit and the glider.”

“Think of it this way, now we’ve got more time to focus on your training until then.” She could tell he was anxious to progress farther in his training; he’d already been asking which area they were going to work on next. He was a quick student, his eagerness matched by his sharp intelligence. His enthusiasm was heartening, and she already had ideas about what to start next, but she was still cautious. Harry was still young, and the young believe themselves immortal, especially those who had come close to death.

Above them was the distinct whir of machinery and gears turning; someone was using the elevator to come down to them. “Were we expecting company?” he asked.

“Perhaps the crew wanted to continue working. Or they left something down here.” Even as she spoke, she knew none of it was right. It was late, too late for the construction crew to come back, and the janitors never came down here. From everything Harry told her, and her own digging into it, nobody ever came down to Special Projects. Most, she assumed, didn’t know of its existence.

The elevator stopped with a heavy thud, and the doors hissed as they opened. All that was there was a single man, or at least his silhouette, wearing a long coat and a hat that obscured his face. For a moment she thought –hoped—him a business man, part of Oscorp’s corporate wing who had gotten onto the wrong elevator after a long night at work.

“Shit,” Harry hissed between his teeth.

 “It’s been a while, Mr. Osborn,” the man said, stepping off the elevator. Harry didn’t answer. “Your circumstances have certainly improved. The last time I saw you, you were wrapped in a strait jacket and locked in a tiny cell.”

As the man stepped closer, Harry inched closer to her. “What can I say? My luck’s improved.”

“Clearly, and you chose not to share this improvement. Imagine how foolish I felt, showing up at Ravencroft and you’re not there. In fact, they have no record of a Mr. Harold Osborn ever having been there.” He came even closer, too close for Sigyn’s liking, and she put herself even more so between him and Harry. Even this close, he managed to keep his face obscured in the shadows, but she felt his gaze go through her. He made some content humming noise that made her skin crawl and said, “If I was a gambling man, I’d guess that you’re the reason for Harry’s sudden change of fortune.”

“Then it’s a shame this is not a gambling table.” He chuckled at that and she wanted to punch him for it. “Who are you?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“You’re the one who’s ignored common courtesy by showing up unannounced and uninvited.”

“His name is Fiers,” Harry answered. “He’s the, uh, associate, I made while I was in Ravencroft.”

“So you do remember our agreement.”

“Yeah about that,” Harry glanced at her before continuing. “I’m not working with you anymore.”

“Excuse me?” The overly pleased, smug tone in his voice was gone.

“You sent a man in a metal rhino suit after Spiderman. A fucking robo furry, and he lost in five minutes. If that’s the best you can come up with…”

“It was only a first run. Next time…”

“There’s not going to be a next time.” Harry stepped forward, fists balled at his sides. His jaw was clenched. “We’re done.”

“Need I remind you that you were the one who approved of Sytsevich. ‘Start with him’ was I believe what you told me. How eager you were to change this city.”

“I wasn’t exactly in a position to be making informed decisions.”

“And you are now?” Fiers turned his attention back to her. “Or is she letting you think you’re in control here?”

“Leave her out of this,” Harry snarled, but Sigyn held up her hand to quiet him.

“It’s alright, Harry. I’m more than capable of fighting my own battles.”

“You never answered my question earlier. You now know who I am, but it seems I’m still at a disadvantage here.”

Oh, she knew what she wanted to say. _I am Sigyn of Asgard, daughter of Iwaldi and Freya, and wife of Loki._ She could feel the magic crackling beneath her skin, itching to be let free. Nothing would have pleased her more than to create her armor, to show the full extent of who she was in an imposing display of power. But that was her pride, and it was a dangerous path to follow. There was no way to know who this man’s other allies were, or who he might run to if she revealed too much too soon. Her safety, and Harry’s, hinged on her anonymity for the time being. “I’m Harry’s godmother.”

“Didn’t know he had one.”

“Then that is a failing in your research. And from what I hear it is one of many.” Harry snorted, and Fiers tried to take another step towards him. Sigyn sidestepped to keep herself between the two of them.

“The boy and I had an agreement,” he snarled.

“And he is altering the agreement.”

It was unsettling how she still couldn’t make out the details of his face, even as they were standing almost toe to toe. She moved her hands behind her back, and one knife materialized in her hand. “And what do you gain from this?” Fiers asked

“Who said I gain anything?”

“Come on. Do you really expect me to believe that godmother story? Why else would you help an impressionable young billionaire escape from a maximum security prison unless it benefits you somehow? Harry, do you know anything about who this woman really is?”

 “I know she is a better mentor than you. I know that when I was trapped in Ravencroft—suffering, by the way---you helped yourself to everything here and then failed. Whatever arrangement you and I had is done. I work with her now.”

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple. You see, I’m not the only one that will be disappointed by this turn of events. Some of the other candidates are looking forward to getting their new equipment.”

“Not my problem,” Harry snapped.

“Oh but it is. Some of them are particularly violent, and are not particularly good at dealing with disappointment.”

Sigyn rolled her eyes. “This is all hypothetical. You speak of these other candidates; how are we to even know if they exist?”

“I could arrange a meeting, if that would ease your curiosity,” he answered, sounding more like a threat than anything else.

“I doubt you have anything, or anyone, that could interest my curiosity. You have nothing without Harry and what’s here at Oscorp.”

He turned to Harry once more. “Business Etiquette 101: There will always be consequences to broken agreements. Surely even you and your new associate can understand this. I wonder how Spiderman would react if he were to learn that you escaped Ravencroft. Or maybe the Avengers should find out.”

Sigyn gripped the knife tighter in her hand; with good timing she could land her knife in his neck and end this whole mess right now. She could see Harry’s eyes go wide and his face a few shades paler.

“Tell you what,” he said, his voice lighthearted again as he stepped back. “Since I can tell this caught you off guard and we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot, I’ll give you 24 hours to reconsider this…predicament you find yourselves in.” He started backing away, and Sigyn waited for her opening. “By the way, should anything happen to be, either now or tomorrow night, my associates will leak the identity of that Stacy girl’s real killer to the press. And I’m sure you don’t want that, considering what great lengths you went to clear your name.” He had the courage to turn his back on them as he walked towards the elevator. “24 hours. Right here, and then we’ll just have to see where things go from there.” He turned and tipped his hat to the both of them. “Until tomorrow,” he said just before stepping onto the elevator.

In a moment of furious indignation and frustration, Sigyn chucked her knife at the elevator doors just as they closed with none of her usual gracefulness. Harry dragged both hands through his hair, panicked, swearing, breathing heavily, just as Sigyn saw the faint green veins crawling up his neck again.

“Shit. Shitshitshitshitshitshit. The fuck are we going to do?”

“We’re not going to panic,” she said, very much aware that panic was already settling in her chest, and Harry started laughing in that slightly deranged way that bordered on hysterical. “Listen,” she said, gently forcing him to look at her. She needed to be calm for both of them. “We cannot panic; we’re going to deal with this.”

The only problem was that Sigyn didn’t know how, and they only had 24 hours to figure out a solution.

 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Sigyn paced back and forth, her heels tapping out a steady rhythm on the floor. Her thumbnail rested between her teeth and her mind raced in a desperate attempt to find a way out of their predicament.

_Loki would know what to do_.

“Please stop; you’re making me dizzy,” Harry groaned, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. He’d managed to bring his transformation under control, but he was still just as panicked as she was. “Didn’t think he’d ever show up again.” Harry shook his head. “I’m so fucking stupid.”

“No, you’re not. Beating yourself up won’t help us find a way to fix this.” She stopped and knelt in front of him, her hand resting on his shoulder. “What do we know about him?”

“I know less about him than I do about you. He just…showed up one day talking about putting a team together and changing this city. I don’t even know what he really wants.”

“I suspect no one does but him.” Something Fiers had said nagged at her as she looked on the empty cells. “What was Special Projects used for?”

“Menken said it was the future, whatever the hell that meant. Just weird, experimental shit they didn’t want the investors knowing about. Why? Do you think Fiers was working with Menken this whole time?”

That didn’t seem right, either. “Menken wanted you dead; I doubt any plan he came up with would involve you.” She walked over to one of the cells. Whatever they had housed was gone, but the wiring still dangled from the walls. Several deep scratches marred the floor, like something had been dragged, before vanishing. “This was where Sytsevich’s armor was being held, wasn’t it?”

“The fucking rhino suit? Yeah, I think so.”

“And the other things that were held down here?” She had only seen them once before Harry had them moved to an off-site storage facility before construction started.

“I know one had wings and one had tentacles. My suit, glider and the spider venom were down here too.”

She’d been foolish not to see it until now. “This was an armory.”

“An armory? Like the kind used by ye old knights of olden times? Why the hell would my father and Menken have a weird ass weapon’s vault beneath the building?”

“Your guess is as good as mine but this…” She stepped into one of the cells. “This is what Fiers wants. He wants the suits your father had built down here.”

“Well, yeah; he wants them for this team.”

“Yes, but this is all he wants. He doesn’t care about losing you. He cares about losing all this. Without your access to Oscorp, his operation will go nowhere.”

“Great, another person who just wanted to use me for something. Fuck him! If he wants them so bad he can fish them out of the Hudson.”

“And our faces will be plastered all over the papers the next day. No, I have a better idea.” He cocked his head at her. “We’ll use these as leverage. He leaves us alone in exchange for the weapons.”

Harry leapt to his feet. “Are you out of your mind? You want to give him several million dollars’ worth of weaponized tech after we just pissed him off?”

“I’ll negotiate the terms. In exchange for the equipment, he has to leave us alone, for good. Shouldn’t be too hard; I watched my father negotiate trade deals all the time.”

“And you think he’ll just honor this agreement because you said please? Sigyn, he’ll kill us!”

“We will have many enemies who will try to kill us, little goblin. Besides, I’m more than capable of taking care of Fiers if need be.” It was a bit of bravado on her part. She had no idea what Fiers was capable of, and there wasn’t enough time to do thorough research on him. But she could tell he was a man who only cared about the end result, not so much how he got there.

“So what you want to make him our ally now?”

“Ally? No, that would imply that we trusted him. He will be, at best, an associate. He can have the suits, we’ll have no use for them, but it will be on our terms, not his.”

Harry nodded, warming up to the idea. “It would keep Spiderman busy. And if he’s busy dealing with them, he’ll be too busy to figure out I’m not in Ravencroft.”

“That is one benefit, I suppose.” It might also keep the Avengers busy, or it might give them something that would lead them right to their door. But she didn’t see many better options. With such a short time frame and so little information about their adversary, the best option was to make this work in their favor to the best of her ability.

* * *

Harry stared up at the ceiling as he lay on his bed. His eyes were dry and his eyelids heavy to the point that keeping them open was almost painful. Dawn was approaching; faint rays of sunlight crept in through the window and the sounds of the city waking up steadily increased. Despite his bone deep exhaustion, sleep escaped him. Fiers was out there, and for all he knew the man could already be waiting by that stupid paper Peter worked for with a manila envelope full of God knows what about him and Sigyn. Everything about Fiers escaped him; he’d asked the man about who he was, right? How he knew about him, how he knew that Harry was in Ravencroft when that detail had been kept out of the papers by Oscorp. He had to have, but he couldn’t remember doing so or getting any answers. It might have been the cocktail of drugs the doctors gave him; sometimes events from Ravencroft don’t always add up right.

His head spun when he pushed himself up and off the bed’ soon, sunlight would make it impossible for him to get any sleep, and he shuffled over to the window to close the shades. The people on the street below looked a little like ants from where he was. Strange how he’d never noticed that before. _._

He dragged the curtains shut and stumbled back towards the bed, and the world went back as soon as he hit the mattress.

_The cell was cold with a strange dampness that clung to his skin. The scent of moss and wet earth flooded his senses to the point he could taste it. This wasn’t his exact cell from Ravencroft; instead it was more like his cell had merged with some kind of underground cave. He tried to move towards the figure seated before him, only as he tried to move he found himself in the chair, straining against bonds he couldn’t see. He screamed and screamed until his throat was raw but the cell seemed to swallow them, muffling them._

_“Shhhh…” a familiar voice whispered in his ear. Not Sigyn’s or Peter’s or his father’s, but his own. The Goblin knelt beside him, hand on his shoulder._

_Now there were other voices talking: his own or Goblin’s, and the man in the shadows. Fiers. The man’s words came and went, alternating between fuzzy and clear. “I knew your father.” The words floated to the surface even as the man sank back into shadow._

_“Well.” He turned and his own face stared back at him, mouth split into a too-wide grin filled with pointed teeth. “We better tell Mother.”_

Harry woke with a gasp, his heart pounding in his ears. He had not dreamed of Ravencroft since his release. Fiers’ words were seared into his memory in a clear, sharp image. _I knew your father_. Of course his father would know some creepy psychopath like Fiers. It seemed he was always reaping the consequences of his father’s choices. Harry pushed himself up, rubbing his temples. It was unlikely he would find an address book or journal that belonged to his father that would make any mention of Fiers but money…money didn’t lie. Anything he needed to know about Fiers would be in shipping records and financial ledgers. He checked his phone; it was almost noon, which mean he only had a few hours to find something that might help them.

He found Sigyn in his father’s study (he should just start referring to it as her study from now on), seated cross legged in the middle of the room. The furniture was pushed to sides, and in front of her were several small wooden squares, some marked with runes and others blank. She held a blank piece in one hand and as she traced the rune design with her finger, the room had the faint smell of burning wood. When she finished that piece, she placed it in the pile and picked up another blank one to start the process over. Her lips were moving, but whether she was reciting some ancient spell or singing along with the cheesy Top 40 station he couldn’t tell. But he could still see her exhaustion in the dark circles under her eyes and the dazed look on her face.

“What’s all this?”

“Protection runes. We’re going to need more of them here and at Oscorp.”

“Normally I’d say something about us having state of the art, high tech security systems but those don’t seem to be working for us lately.”

“I’m still trying to figure out how Fiers got into Oscorp, especially Special Projects. I feel like we’re missing something.”

“He knew my father,” Harry blurted out. “I couldn’t remember everything from Ravencroft, still can’t, but I remember him telling me that. I think he thought it would make me trust him.”

“Did it?”

He snorted. “Invoking my father isn’t the best way into my good graces. But I thought he would at least help me get out.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Well, yeah.” There was still a lot he didn’t know about her, but she hadn’t thrown him away, she hadn’t left him behind. She was the only person he trusted. “Wouldn’t let you sit here making rune things if I didn’t.”

While she continued to work, Harry looked around the office for anything that might give him some insight on who Fiers was, or what his relationship to his father might have been. He combed through every digital archive he could find: shipping manifests, quarterly reports going back years, banking records. Nothing interesting was turning up. Menken must have covered their tracks in his six month absence.

“Harry, come here,” she called.

He groaned and shoved the chair away from the desk. “He’s got to be hiding something, somewhere. It’s like Fiers just vanishes and reappears like a ghost.”

“You’re frustrated, and you won’t get anywhere when you’re flustered.”

“I just wish I could be more helpful,” he said, sitting across from her.

“That he knew your father is more than helpful.”

There were only a couple of blank wood pieces left, and Harry couldn’t stop watching as she burned the runes into each one followed by a hole at the top and bottom of each piece. So much of her magic had either been done to him or meant to be out of sight, that watching her make something so simple was oddly calming. He picked up on of the squares between his fingers. Whatever power she put into it vibrated and prickled at his skin like an electric current but didn’t shock him. If he looked close enough, he could make out the faintest trace of tiny electric green lights coursing through the rune.

“This…this is cool,” he said, grinning, and put the rune back in the pile. For a moment, he forgot they were up against the clock.

She chuckled and answered, “I forget sometimes that what’s simple to us is miraculous to humans.” With the last one finished, she laid out nine of them, each one with a different rune in a particular order. “Here.” She tossed him several bits of leather. “Help me tie these all together in this order, starting with this one,” she instructed, pointing out which one was the starting one.

As he strung each of them together as instructed, he felt a surge of energy that increased as he added each one. “So these are just like an electrical circuit, right?”

“Each rune is linked through magical energy. As long as they are connected, they will work in harmony.”

“So…electrical circuit.” He thought of Max—Electro—and that failed partnership. “What will these do?”

“It will sense intruders, abnormal movements. Servants, you and I will not trigger it. It’s designed to detect threats.”

“And…these will work?”

“I had several of these in my quarters on Asgard. Particularly where I didn’t want anyone snooping around.” Her brow furrowed for a moment and her shoulders seemed to droop. She must be homesick still. As with other times she let this part of herself slip, she realized it and recovered herself.

Sigyn stood up, a rune string in her hand, and beckoned him with her. “Here.” She stopped in the doorway and handed it to him. “Hold it to the door frame just so.” He held the top rune and pressed it to the doorway molding. She tapped her finger to each rune, uttering another strange word. After she touched the last one, the sharp metallic scent of ozone hung in the air. The molding around the strand began to soften so that it resembled dark brown Play-Dough. Harry didn’t realize how much pressure he was using until the top rune sank into the molding. It devoured each rune and leather cords he way lava devours the rocks and earth it crawls over. He pulled his hand back at the last minute. The wall solidified, smoothing back out into firm mahogany, and from beneath the surface there was a brief flash of golden green lights in the shape of the runes. 

Harry ran his hands over the surface, and when he pressed his palm against it nothing gave way. “That’s…wow,” he breathed, grinning. “Thank you.”

“This place is as much my home now as it is yours,” she said. “You shouldn’t be the only one to defend it. Now come; we have to finish hanging these before tonight.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered, grinning, as he followed her down the hallway.

* * *

The waiting was the worst part. If Sigyn was nervous she didn’t show it, but Harry had to fight to keep still, to keep from pacing so much he put trenches in the floor. Fiers was late. “Do you think he’ll still show up?” He asked, both of them watching the elevator.

“Oh yes. The question is whom or what will he bring with him.”

“Not exactly comforting.” They’d hung the remaining rune string in Special Projects, but since they knew Fiers was coming, it was pointless at the moment. “This is bullshit; where is he?”

“Patience, little goblin. He’s just toying with us.” As she spoke, the elevator machinery whirred above them. Harry’s heart pounded just a little faster, a little harder, and his stomach clenched. “You know the plan,” she said.

“Yeah. Got it,” he answered, trying to sound more sure than he was. Sigyn stood near the elevator doors, ready to greet him. He, according to their plan, retreated into one of the empty cells that was still filled with boxes and used them for cover. If he was honest, he didn’t like the idea of her facing him alone, but she had insisted. The doors opened with a soft hiss.

“Welcome, Mr. Fiers,” she greeted with a regal, welcoming tone he’d never heard her use.

Fiers didn’t answer as he stepped off the elevator. His footsteps were slow, deliberate. “Where is Mr. Osborn?” It wasn’t possible, but Harry could feel his eyes scanning the room and had this sudden, irrational fear that Fiers could somehow see him behind the boxes. He lowered himself to the ground.

“Mr. Osborn will be joining us shortly. He thought instead we might discuss this matter ourselves first.”

“Then he thought wrong because I do not want to discuss anything with you.” The charming, congenial Fiers from last night was gone. This man Harry didn’t recognize. He crept closer to the edge of the boxes and peeked around the corner.

Sigyn stood in front of him, her hands clasped behind her back. “Mr. Osborn has entrusted me with negotiating this agreement.”

“I don’t care what he’s entrusted you with or what he’s promised you, but I will not be insulted by having to report to some secretary like I’m an underling.”

 “Seems that I’m the only one whose been insulted here.” She took a step back towards the unfinished console. “If you’re not as serious about this partnership as you last night, then I’ll gladly let Mr. Osborn know.”

“Oh, I think it’s Harry who’s not taking this seriously,” he said, reaching into his trench coat. “But he’ll get the message soon enough.” The gun was so small he almost didn’t see it when he pulled his arm out until he was pointing it straight at her face.

_Bang!_

Sigyn fell back against the console, and in one moment, Harry saw his whole new life, his freedom, his goals (barely formed as they were), crash in front of him. It was too short; he couldn’t even scream before he felt the burning in his veins, the unpleasant stretch of his month and lengthening of his teeth. One clawed hand digging into the floor, and the other clasped over his mouth to muffle his scream. He would tear Fier’s throat out, rip him limb from limb. He would have blood for blood.

Except there wasn’t any blood. Sigyn was lying atop the console, but her face was intact and turned towards him. She opened her eyes, looking straight at him, and pushed herself back onto her feet. “That…” She rolled her neck with an audible crack as though she had only spent a long day at her desk. “Was rude.”

“What the hell?” Fiers unloaded the remaining clip at her. Each horrible shot ricocheted off of her and landed somewhere unseen.

Then it was over. Sigyn stood unmoved and Fiers, his arm trembling, lowered the gun. “Are you finished?” she sighed.

“What…what are you?”

“Annoyed, for one thing.” She took the gun from him (he didn’t put up much of a fight) and examined it. “And as I told you last time, I’m Harry’s godmother.”

“No, you’re not.” Sigyn looked up at him and Harry was surprised Fiers still had the balls to challenge her. “Harry’s godmother was some high ranking executive his father worked with. She died six years ago. But you…I can’t seem to find any record of you.”

“Then it seems I’ve done my job well. And you are a great fool if you think I’m going to reveal anything about myself now after your little display.” The metal crunched as she closed her hand around the gun.

Fiers chuckled. “Do you think I only brought one gun to this meeting?”

“By all means, waste more of your bullets on me.”

“Maybe they’re not for you.” Sigyn remained still as stone, her whole body tense like a trap ready to spring.

“You mean to kill him? You’d lose your access to Oscorp without him.”

“Would I?  There are contingencies should the remaining heir come to an unfortunate accident, overdose on whatever designer drug the kids are into these days, or simply succumbs to the same illness that killed his father. He wouldn’t even need to be dead. A single bullet to the right area of his spine would do the trick. And you, whatever you are, I’m sure there are at least half a dozen government agencies that would love to get their hands on you, cut you open and maybe then we’ll find out just who you really are.”

Harry bared his teeth, eager to tear Fiers’ throat out with the same savage glee he felt when he dropped that Stacy girl. But his body wouldn’t move; his eyes fixed on Sigyn, waiting for the command or some sign that she was in real distress.

“I am not someone you want to make an enemy of, Mr. Fiers,” she said, stepping towards him. He edged back, but Harry couldn’t see if he was reaching for another gun. “But by all means, keep threatening Harry and me. See where it gets you.”

The silence stretched out, a taut bowstring ready to snap and fire a whole new round. Harry remained just as still, his eyes locked on Fiers and Sigyn. He almost scrambled forward as Fiers raised his hands. “I…may have been a bit hasty.”

“Only a little bit.”

“I suppose you’ll want my other gun.”

“It would help, yes.”

His chest felt tight and he trembled to remain still as Fiers pulled out the second gun, and didn’t breathe until Sigyn took the butt end of it. He had no idea she knew how a gun worked, but she removed the bullets, and then squeezed the barrel so that it pinched in the middle, before handing just the gun back to him.

“I see why Harry keeps you around.”

“Mr. Osborn,” she corrected, “entrusted me with his safety and his well-being. I would be remiss if I didn’t take _all_ necessary precautions.”

“So when will Mr. Osborn be joining us?”

Sigyn looked over to him and nodded. He stalked out from behind the boxes, a low growl rumbling in his throat, and grinning at the naked fear emanating off of him. Fiers had met the Goblin before, when he was bound to a chair in a strait jacket, no different than some zoo animal. Now the cage was open.

“Harry…” Fiers started.

“Harry’s not here right now.”

So close. A few more steps and he could crush the man’s windpipe. Sigyn’s hand on his arm stopped him from reaching out and grabbing Fier’s throat. “We have business to discuss with our guest,” she reminded him. “And then he can report back to his associates how successful these talks were.”

Right. That whole business. He snarled, snapping his teeth once more for effect. Fiers, much to Harry’s delight, jumped just a little.  “Tell him our offer.”

“We have no wish to make you our enemy, and I’m certain the feeling is mutual. The problem is we have completely different goals, which means a working partnership is, unfortunately, out of the question. But as a sign of good faith, Mr. Osborn has agreed to give you the remaining suits and technology that was housed down here, save for his suit, his glider, and the spider venom.”

“Surely there’s a catch to such generosity.”

“Only that you leave Mr. Osborn and I in peace. New York City is a big place; there’s room for both of us here.”

“So…you give me the suits and we never speak again?” Sigyn nodded. “And if one of them gets damaged and needs repairs?”

“Might I suggest being more careful with them. Perhaps finding someone will more finesse and intellect than some thug who’s been caught once before. Or seek out one of Stark’s competitors. It makes no difference to us.”

“And what of his equipment?”

“What about it?”

“I know you don’t have it. Do you know where the cops are keeping his suit and glider? No? It’s in one of New York’s finest’s many precincts. So here’s my offer. I want Sytsevich’s suit fixed. In exchange, I will give you the location of the precinct that the cops are keeping them in.”

“Spiderman beat the shit out of Sytsevich,” he snarled. “He’s locked up and the rhino suit is in evidence as well.”

“Oh I was able to get him out, the suit too.”

“And you didn’t think to get mine out.”

“It’s called leverage. I thought you two might be difficult and need some convincing.”

Sigyn chuckled, though what she found funny he had no idea. “It would seem we both have underestimated each other. Should we fix Sytsevich’s armor, you will honor the rest of this truce?”

“You mean will I leave you and Mr. Osborn alone? I’d be more inclined to.”

“I need assurances not inclinations.”

“Then rest assured that unless you agree to these terms, I will alert every authority on Earth to what you’ve done, that Gwen Stacy’s real killer is free, aided by some kind of super human. And no amount of bulletproof skin will be able to protect the two of you.”

He was right, Harry realized with a sickening nausea. He would be back in Ravencroft, stabbed and injected with God knows what as they ran tests. And Sigyn…any government agency would kill just to be able to run all kinds of experiments on her. The thought of her as a lab rat, laid out on the dissection table sent a shock of panic straight through him.

“Where is the rhino suit?” he spat out.

“Safe, until I have your word that you’ll repair it. If you agree, I’ll make sure it is delivered here discreetly.”

“Is that the deal, then? We fix this one suit, give you the others, and you give us the location of my suit and leave us alone?” It was an unfair deal, but they were out of options. He needed his suit, and he needed to keep them safe.

“It is.”

He looked to Sigyn; she knew this was an unfair deal, too but nodded in support any way. “Then we have a deal.” He extended his hand, and when Fiers took it, he squeezed his nails into the flesh, not enough to bleed but enough to hurt, enough to send a message. “If you betray us, I will destroy you.”

“My sentiments exactly, Mr. Osborn.” He yanked his hand out of Harry’s grip and started back towards the elevator. “I’ll have the suit dropped off tomorrow. Discreetly, of course. A week should be enough time to fix it, yes?”

“A week? Spiderman could have totaled it for all we know.”

“He didn’t. It’s a bit banged up but not completely destroyed. One week from tomorrow, Red Hook Marine Terminal, 10 o’clock. Come alone, or your faces will be one every newspaper by morning.”

“I expect the same, or else you won’t have a throat,” Harry growled.

“And I expect no less from you.” The elevator doors opened and he stepped onto it. “I’ll see you in a week, Mr. Osborn. Ma’am.” The doors closed, the elevator ascended and Harry could scarcely breathe until he couldn’t see or hear it any more.

“Well, that went about as well as I expected,” Sigyn sighed, the tension leaving her body.

“You expected him to shoot you?” He asked, incredulous.

“The shot to the head was a little more than I expected, but I figured he would try to kill me in some way, and humans are particularly fond of guns.”

“Sigyn!” How could she be so calm about this? His heart was still pounding, and his whole body felt shaky. “What if you hadn’t seen him draw the gun, or he got close enough to stab you? What if…” he trailed off, unwilling to voice this fear. _What if he’d killed you?_

“Shhh, it’s alright little goblin.” With her thumb she brushed away the tears he didn’t even realize were on his cheeks. “A few bullets can’t harm me, and I had a barrier up from the moment we were down here. But we’re safe now, at least for the next week.”

“When I saw him shoot you…” _If she died…_ If she died, he had no one, just an abundance of enemies and acquaintances. She continued to stroke his hair and murmured words in a language he didn’t understand but that soothed him none the less. “I wish I could have killed him,” he snarled.

“His time will come. One of the advantages of a long life is having a long memory. And I promise, I will remember this.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

As promised, Fiers had Sytsevich’s rhino suit delivered in the early morning hours. It arrived in an inconspicuous crate, large but unmarked. The men who delivered it said nothing when asked, and they left as soon as they deposited the crate in Special Projects. They were professionals, Sigyn guessed, men accustomed to such clandestine affairs, but they were decent enough to open the top of the crate before they left.

Harry took out his phone, held it up to the opening, and a bright light revealed what they had to work with.

“Fuck,” Harry moaned. “It didn’t look this bad in the video.”

“What video?”

He tapped his screen a few times before handing the phone to her. “I figured someone had to have put it on the internet somewhere.”

Whoever took the video had been too far back from the action, but she could still see Sytsevich crouch down and lumber forward in a pathetic attempt at mimicking the real animal. And she could see Spiderman swing some kind of metal disk—Harry called it a manhole cover—at Sytsevich’s head. She heard the moment of impact, the crunch of metal against metal, but it was drowned out by cheers, and when he hit the ground she lost sight of the battle. The video ended with someone yelling “Fuck yeah, Spidey!” before the screen went black.

The damage to the suit was extensive. The metal of the head was crushed in to the point that the only recognizable rhino feature was the singular point meant to resemble the horn. The chest cavity remained intact, but one of the arms remained attached to shoulder joint by only a few thick wires. Sigyn had imagined that they would hand her a lump of scrap metal and expect a miracle. This was manageable. “The scientists should be able to fix this,” she said, handing him back his phone.

“In a week?”

“Incentivize them however you must, and it will be done.” Harry didn’t respond, too absorbed in whatever was playing on his phone. She leaned over and saw another video, this time of Spiderman swinging between two buildings.

“What if I can’t beat him?”

“It’s a little early to worry about that. Fiers is our top priority right now.”

“I know. It’s just…the last time I fought him, he kicked my ass.” He rubbed at his throat, still watching the video.

She took the phone from his hands and turned off the video before handing it back to him. “You had just been injected with spider venom, undergone a painful transformation that nearly killed you, took up a weapon and suit you had never used before, and then fought him in a clock tower that limited your movements. You’re defeat is not surprising.”

“I didn’t just lose some fight,” he snapped. “He nearly choked the life out of me, and now there’s Fiers who’ll probably try to kill us or worse if this doesn’t work.”

“No harm will come to you, I swear it.”

“That’s not what…” He shook his head. “I’m just overwhelmed right now. There’s too much on the line for failure to be an option.”

She remembered having similar worries in Asgard, pleading Loki’s case to anyone who would listen. She remembered the way her heart pounded against her ribcage as she stood before the Allfather and his court as she prayed her words would convince him to spare her husband. It had been a gamble with equally high stakes, and for all she knew it had failed. _Don’t dwell on that_. “I am familiar with failure’s dire consequences.”  He looked up at her, ready to ask what she meant, before he remembered her exile.

“I’ve never been good enough in my life. What if I’m never strong enough to beat him?”

Norns, he sounded just like Loki. _I’ll never be strong enough, Sigyn. How can I possibly defeat Thor now that he has that hammer?_

“Sometimes it’s not always about strength. You possess talents that neither Spiderman nor the Avengers have. It’s about using what you have to your advantage.” She reached out and put her arm around his shoulders. “You’re too hard on yourself. You have more strength that you realize, little goblin.”

 

* * *

 

Waiting for the delivery truck was the worst part. Harry’d been sitting by the mansion’s main entrance since early that morning and after nearly four hours of Game of Thrones all the tracking information still said was that his packages were ‘out for delivery.’ _This is stupid; I should just have one of the servants hide it in my room when it gets here_. Then again, what else was he going to do today? If he waited in the media room, watching TV or playing games, he probably would have dozed off and missed it. Sigyn had left earlier that morning, leaving a note that hadn’t given him a whole lot of details other than to rest up for training that night. No clues as to where she was or when she’d be back. Which meant he didn’t have anyone else to talk to, either.

Out of habit, he contemplated calling Peter before remembering how terrible an idea that would be. Still, he missed talking to someone and Peter had been easy to talk to once. Harry had never handled being alone well, and at boarding school he’s surrounded himself with anyone who wanted to be around him, regardless of the reason. Same thing after graduation; he kept an always rotating cadre of ‘friends’ who were really just there for the parties and the money and the drugs.

The low hum of the delivery truck drew louder as it pulled up the driveway, and Harry was already at the door before the driver was. Once the packages were signed for and he shut the door, he tore into both boxes. The messenger bag was perfect, made from supple brown leather with a durable strap and metal buckles. It was classy and vaguely reminded him of the kind his professors used to have. He chucked the box in the nearest garbage bin that would hold it and carried to her study. The place wasn’t in chaos, but it was still strange to see such signs of life there. As his illness progressed, his father spent most of his time working in his room, or so he’d been told. He placed the bag on top of her desk, carried the other box up to his bedroom and tore into it. 

The Poetic Edda, the Prose Edda, a collection of the Icelandic and other Norse sagas. He picked up the prose Edda first, poetry had never been his strength, and flipped back to the index. These had to mention her and Loki somewhere...

 

* * *

 

It was nearly evening when Sigyn shuffled through the mansion's front door and headed towards the office. She ached down to the bone and her clothes reeked of metal and magic, but each of the suits in storage had been taken care of. Tomorrow she'd deal with Sytsevich's suit; the engineers should have enough of it done by now. Once in the office she dropped her tool bag by the desk and sank into the chair. Her exhaustion went bone deep and the longer she sat the more she melted into the leather, unwilling to move.

_Knock, knock, knock_. Sigyn frowned and opened her eyes. The door was partially open, and she could see Harry through the crack. He always knocked, no matter how many times she said that he didn't need to. _A habit left over from his father..._ She motioned for him to enter and he approached the desk.

"You look tired."

"I imagine I do; I barely slept last night." Looking closer, she could see the redness in his eyes. "Are you well? Your eyes are red."

"Oh. Yeah, it's just allergies."

"I didn't know you were allergic to anything," she said with a fresh spike of concern.

"Just pollen. It's that season. Lots of people have them, it's nothing serious." He paused for a moment before continuing. "So how'd it go? You were gone longer than you said you would be."

"Had to pick up some tools on the way, and one of the suits was more difficult than the others. The one with four arms," she added when he asked which one. "Each arm needed a separate rune." She smiled and stretched out her back. "It's been too long since I've woven spells into metal; I've missed it."

"You're more than welcome to work on my new armor and glider if I never get the old ones back."

"When," she corrected. "Fiers owes you the location."

"Yeah, and it's probably a trap. Why else would he leave it there?"

"He wanted an extra bargaining chip."

"Exactly. I know you can get us out, but what if he alerts that precinct that we’re coming? An anonymous tip would get us out of their hair pretty quickly. That’s even if it’s in that precinct."

"Then what would you suggest?"

"We wait. See what precinct it is, how heavily it's guarded. Maybe we scope it out a bit to see if it's a trap. If it is I order a new glider and armor made."

Sigyn had been set to storm the precinct. If they were to eventually challenge the Avengers, Harry needed more experience in combat and infiltrating secure buildings, and this would have been a good trial run. But she had to admit that he was right; there were too many variables and underestimating Fiers was unwise. "Then we'll wait."

He gave a relieved smile. "That's good, because I've got something else we can use against Fiers." He pulled something small out of his pocket and plugged it into the computer. The screen lit up and he opened what looked like an accounting ledger. "I pulled as many of my father's financial records as I could and talked his accountant, who was reluctant to help until I threatened to make his life very difficult. Most of the account numbers make sense: income, federal money, things like that. But when we get to private and charitable donors we found this." He highlighted a series of numbers. "This one shows up once a month with a very sizable donation."

"Fiers?" 

"Considering this leads to an offshore private account that I'm having a hard time tracking, my money's on yes. It goes back years and it's always for something different. It's a lot of money that's unaccounted for, and after doing some rough math it adds to the cost of those things down in special projects. This is him, Sigyn. He was helping fund whatever those things are."

"So we have a way to his money? Seems odd he was so careless with that information."

"I did have to dig around for it. Probably didn't think a party kid like me would bother searching it out."

"You are so much more than that." This was an open would they could prod at if he turned on them. "You've done well, Harry," she said, filling with pride as she placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm very impressed."

He looked down but she could still see him grinning. "Do you like your gift?" 

"Gift?" 

He looked over to the desk and she saw what in her exhaustion she'd failed to recognize. It was the leather bag she’d seen in the department store. "It's exquisite," she said, picking it up. “Though I do not know the occasion for such a gift.”

"No reason. You just deserve something better than a beat up piece of junk. Do you like it?"

"Absolutely. Thank you Harry." He hugged her and she felt a fierce protectiveness over the boy. He was more generous and intelligent that anyone, even himself, gave him credit for. If anyone--Fiers, the police, the Avengers--came for him, they would have to deal with her first.

 

* * *

 

Red Hook Terminal was quiet that night. Water lapped against the docks, and somewhere in the distance Harry swore he could hear two cats yowling in the distance. He picked at the sleeves of his jacket and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, anything to keep from pacing back and forth.

“Where are they?” Part of him hoped that they wouldn’t show and he could shove these boxes into the river and be done with them. It wasn’t going to happen but he could still hope for it.

“It’s only 9:58,” Sigyn answered. Dressed in all black, she almost looked like a shadow herself. Her hood was drawn up, and was large enough to almost conceal her eyes. A black, shiny material that resembled the face shield of a motorcycle helmet covered the lower half of her face. Harry felt underdressed, standing next to her in an old hoodie underneath an old leather jacket and a bandana around his neck he’d turn into a mask when –if—they arrive, and a few pumpkin bombs clipped to the tops of his jeans. “Fiers will show up exactly at 10. It’ll all be part of his,” she gave a flourish with her hand. “Presentation.”

“Or it’s a trap and a bunch of S.W.A.T. teams will show up at 10.”

“Not if he wants these suits back. But I doubt he will show up alone. He’ll want to make a statement, intimidate us a final time by showing his strength in numbers.”

“That supposed to make me feel better?” His stomach twisted in knots.

“Just preparing you for what may come.”

“Great.” He could have sworn he heard a car in the distance, but couldn’t place if it was close or not. “Are you afraid?”

She turned, and he could just see her eyes from under the hood. “I have faced worse enemies than this. My concern is that he will try to harm you. But,” she continued. “I will yank out his entrails should he lift a hand to you.”

“That is weirdly comforting.”

His suspicion about the car turned out to be right after all; the headlights of a black SUV drew closer, and a small truck followed behind it. Harry forced himself to remain still, keeping himself in a wide stance with his hands clasped behind his back. _I will not back down,_ he thought, even as instinct told him to run. A warm, tingling feeling washed over him, and golden specks of light danced in front of his face. When they cleared, he saw he was dressed in an outfit similar to Sigyn’s, complete with shiny black mask that covered the lower half of his face as well.

“If you’re going to stand like a warrior, you should look the part.”

He gave a nervous laugh. “Seems we’ll have some presentation of our own.”

“You learn quickly,” she said, and he could almost hear the smile in her voice.

The SUV and truck came to a stop with enough of a distance between them. Fiers stepped out the SUV, followed by several other men in black ski masks.

“You were told to come alone,” Harry called out, hoping that his momentary panic didn’t come through.

“Needed people to put the suits in the truck. I can’t lift several hundred pounds of metal and wires by myself,” he answered as he approached them.

His hands were empty, and Harry couldn’t see anything that might have held his suit’s location. “Alright, I’ve held up my end of the bargain. Now it’s your turn.” The men in ski masks walked over to the storage container and started prying it open. One of the men removed his mask, revealing a bald head crowned with an ugly barbed wire tattoo, flicked on a flashlight, and walked into the container. “What the hell are you doing?”

Fiers held up his hand like he was dealing with an impatient child. “Patience, Mr. Osborn. This is just a precaution.”

“You don’t trust us?” Sigyn asked.

“Would you?”

The man climbed back out of the container, a pleased grin plastered on his face. “They look good, sir.” His accent was thick, Russian. _Sytsevich_.

“Good. Let’s load them up.”

Harry looked over to Sigyn, her fist clenched at her side. “Ten bucks he makes a run for it,” he said under his breath.

“No he won’t.” She stepped forward. Fiers watched her but the others were too busy loading the suits onto pallets to take back to the truck. If he knew what was about to happen, he didn’t react fast enough. With one hand motion, there was a brief flash of light, and two of the men smacked right into barrier. It shimmered gold on impact before turning invisible. “We had a deal, Fiers. Now that your _precautions_ have been addressed, you will fulfill your end.”

Sytsevich whistled. “We should have her on our side.”

“ _Go fuck yourself_ ,” she spat back in Russian. At least he’s pretty sure that’s what she said. Harry’s Russian was limited to “Fuck me” and “Vodka” but the scrunched up look on Sytsevich’s face made the context pretty clear.

“As interesting as that would be, she’s not exactly a team player.” Fiers reached into his pocket and Harry reached behind him for a pumpkin bomb. “Whatever you’re planning, Mr. Osborn, I’d advise against it. Unless of course you’re not interested in getting your suit back.”  He held up what looked like a flash drive. “Told you I’d have it.”

Fiers held out the flash drive in what Harry assumed was a gesture of good will. He pushed past his instincts that said _hey this might be a trap_ , marched up to Fiers and snatched the disk out of his hand.

“Care to lower this barrier, now?”

There was a long pause before Sigyn’s barrier fell in a cascade of iridescent light. Harry shoved the flash drive in his pocket, and the rest of the suits were loaded into the truck in a short time. This had worked, he realized, and let out a relieved breath. It was over.

“It’s been a pleasure doing business with the both of you.” Fiers tipped his hat to them and headed back towards the SUV. “Hopefully we won’t meet again.”

A faint _whoosh_ came from above them, and a shadow crossed the pavement. Harry looked up. He knew that sound; he heard it when he replayed his defeat at the clock tower. “No.” The word was no more than a whisper, almost as if he said them too loud it they would manifest into something real.

“Well that’s not very nice.” Spiderman’s voice said from above them. He was still covered by the shadows and Harry couldn’t place his location. “Is it just me or are villains losing their manners these days?”

“Did you call him?” Sigyn growled, her voice almost inhuman.

“If I wanted to betray you, do you think I’d call Spiderman?”

“Shit…” Sigyn moved closer to him and whispered. “When I give the signal, you run. I’ll catch up with you later.”

“What?! I’m not leaving you.”

“This isn’t a debate. I will be fine, but he can’t learn about you.” She turned to Fiers. “You need to leave. Now.”

“I was thinking the same thing.”

His run towards the SUV was cut short when the webbing material caught around his ankles. Another _whoosh_ and this time Harry could see Spiderman perched on top of the shipping containers. His stomach clenched, and his heart pounded in his ears. He wasn’t prepared for this, physically or emotionally.

“So lemme guess?” Spiderman said, plopping down so he could swing his legs over the side of the container. “The Mafia versus…” He paused as he looked at him and Sigyn. _Oh god he can see me_. “You got me. Are you guys like Tron meets Darth Vader? It’s a very unique vibe you’ve got going on.” He hopped down to the ground. “So what’re ya bringing in? Drugs? Weapons?”

To his credit, Fiers stayed silent as he tried to cut through the webbing around his feet. A few of his henchmen were out of the SUV with guns pointed at Spiderman.

“Run home, little spider.” Sigyn’s voice as she stepped forward was not her own, but deeper, echoing, with a mechanized quality to it. Harry started inching back, ready to run on her command. “These matters don’t concern you.”

“Huh, so I was right about the whole Darth Vader thing.”

“Last warning.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so.”

“Suit yourself.” She cracked her knuckles and stomped her foot on the ground. “RUN!”

Her scream pierced the air like a gunshot, and Harry bolted into the night.

 

* * *

 

“Wait, what!” Spiderman spun and tried to run towards the SUV just some of Fier’s men fired on them. The bullets bounced off the barrier, and Spiderman smacked into it as though he’d hit a wall. The entire perimeter rippled with golden light before turning invisible once more.

“Ow!” Spiderman cried out, holding his forehead. “Is that a freaking force field?!”

“I told you to run home.”

“You also didn’t tell me I’d be signing up for an invisible cage match if I didn’t!”

Fiers managed to get himself free of the webbing, and both his SUV and his truck sped away, their tires squealing against the pavement. She just hopped Harry had fled as well. This barrier was smaller than the last, and it should last longer, at least long enough for all of them to get away. “If you are the hero they say you are, then the size of the arena shouldn’t matter."

They circled each other, waiting to see which one of them would make the first move. Sigyn grabbed one of her knives out of her thigh holster and twirled it around her fingers.

“Oh no, small knives,” he drawled. “My only weakness.”

“You talk too much.” So far he’d made no effort to attack her, and she suspected he wouldn’t. He would wait this out, incessantly talking about nothing, until she couldn’t keep the barrier up any more and then he’d go after Fiers, who’d probably tell him everything if he thought it meant he’d get away. Or worse, he’d go after Harry. She had to incapacitate him, make sure he wouldn’t be coming after them for a while.

She lunged at him, and each time she did he dodged out of the way. His reflexes were abnormally quick, more so than she expected for a mortal, and each time she sliced through air. With a snap of her fingers, a bright flash of light exploded on his right side, and his distraction left just enough time for her to slash at his chest. Her guess was right; he didn’t have enough time to dodge her attack, but he threw up his arm to block anyway, and her knife slashed through his suit. He hissed and grabbed his arm, and Sigyn saw her opening. She kicked him in the midsection and sent him flying back against the barrier.

“Shit!” He coughed. “You know you could probably make a lot more money in the MMA circuit. Less dangerous than running drugs or whatever.”

Sigyn was starting to understand how he and Harry could have been friends once; both of them had enough sarcasm to make Loki proud. Still, her attack hadn’t been enough and she went in for another hit. Except when she tried to move her feet wouldn’t move. They were covered in white webbing that secured her to the ground. If she bent down to cut herself free, he would probably stick her hands to the ground as well. Just one more thing she had to disable in this fight.

_But where is it coming from?_ She wondered. He wore no other external armor other than the suit, and unless he was making it himself she couldn’t see where it would come from.

“Alright, I think it’s time we see who’s under the mask.”

He raised his arm and a long string of webbing shot out from his wrist and landed on her mask with a _splat_. As she felt the mask being pulled forward, Sigyn grabbed the web in one hand and severed it between her hand and the mask. Now she had a new kind of leverage, and she used the webbing to fling him to the side. There was barely enough time to yank her feet free of the webbing before he lunged, his fist aimed at her head.

She caught him by the wrist and… _there!_ Whatever device made his webbing was under his suit at the wrists. Her hand curled around his wrist tighter and tighter until she heard metal and bone crack and Spiderman scream. _One down, one to go._

He rammed his knee into her stomach and the surprise of it almost knocked the air out of her. His elbow collided with her ribs, forcing her to stumble back. She grabbed at his other wrist and he pulled away. But she did manage to catch where she had cut him earlier, and she curled her fingers under the device and tore it away.

The barrier flickered around them; holding it up while fighting him was taking more energy than she anticipated. She slid the knife back in its holster. When the barrier came down she was going to run.

He must have figured out her plan. With a sweeping kick, he knocked her feet out from under her and she fell backwards. Her back and the back of her head hit the pavement with a painful thud, but she did manage to kick him back with both feet before scrambling back up.

For a moment they just stared at each other. One of Spiderman’s sleeves was torn and blood dripped down his arm. His other wrist, the one she had crushed with the web device, was limp and it was obvious he was trying not to move it. She almost felt bad; she was unused to combat and he was a boy no older than Harry. _Except he turned his back on Harry when he needed him most,_ she remembered.

“I’ll say this once more: Go home.”

“Who…” he panted. “Who are you?”

In Asgard, they had whispered things about her when rumors of Loki’s true identity began circling, and the whispering only grew louder when she defended him. Even now in her absence, she imagined they still spoke her name in hushed tones. Perhaps it was time she embraced what they said about her.

“A monster.”

The barrier gave one last dying flicker before fading entirely. “I’m sure we’ll meet again, Spiderman,” she called as she ran. No footsteps followed behind her.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Harry checked his watch for the fifth time since he found his hiding spot. Nearly forty five minutes had passed and he’d neither seen nor heard from Sigyn. The stench of rotting garbage was only making the sick feeling in his stomach worse, and he was certain he might throw up behind the dumpster he was using for cover. _Well, it wouldn’t be the first time…_

All kinds of scenarios played in his mind. What if Spiderman had overpowered her somehow? What if he’d called for backup and she’d been captured? What if she was too injured to move? She may have given him an order to run but he regretted leaving her behind.

“To hell with this,” he muttered, getting to his feet. He would retrace his steps back towards the terminal. If she was fine, he’d probably run into her. If she was still there, she’d probably need help.

He was only one step out of the ally when someone pushed him by the chest back into it, pinning him against the brick wall.

“Gimme your wallet! Now!” The man’s breath reeked of alcohol and cigarettes and at least four days of not brushing his teeth. Something sharp pressed against his ribs. A knife? No, not the right shape. A broken bottle.

“Alright, alright. Just lemme get my wallet and you can have everything.”

“Hurry up!” The man steppe back just enough and Harry saw his opening.

_You want me to hurry? Fine._ He thrust his hand up and slammed the heel of his hand into the man’s nose. Before he could so much as scream, Harry struck him right in the middle of his chest. It wasn’t enough to crack bone, but he could feel the shock of the impact reverberate through his arm. The man staggered back, gasping and holding his nose. His face was covered in blood. The mark on his arm itched and burned, like a thousand fire ants were moving underneath. _Kill him,_ the Goblin whispered.

Harry kicked the man’s feet out from under him before kicking him again in the stomach. The man groaned and curled in on himself, and Harry was about to land a blow to his head when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Sigyn stood at the ally’s entrance, leaning against the brick wall. Like him, she still wore the mask over the lower half of her face, but hers looked like it was covered in something he couldn’t quite make out.

The man moved again, and Harry crouched down. “Don’t move.” His voice had the same mechanized quality Sigyn’s had earlier. His attacker groaned, but didn’t get up, so Harry took that as an acknowledgement.

Sigyn limped forward, heading further into the ally, and he followed after her in silence until they had found themselves in a new ally.

“You’re hurt,” he said as she came to a stop. Up close, he could clearly see what was on her mask as she struggled to peel it off. “Is that webbing?”

“He meant to reveal my identity, and quickly learned that was a mistake.” She leaned against the wall and winced when her back made contact. “However, he is stronger than I anticipated.”

He looked at the ground; she was hurt because of _him_. “I shouldn’t have left you.”

She gently touched his chin and lifted so her gaze met his. “Yes, you should have. If he pulled my mask off, oh well. He has no idea who I am. But we cannot risk him finding out you’re free. Not until you’re ready to face him. Besides,” she pulled something out of her jacket pocket and placed it in his hand. “The fight wasn’t for nothing.”

“What is it?” he turned the small metal contraption over a few times.

“It’s how he makes…whatever this is,” she answered, peeling the last of the webbing off her mask.

“Holy shit…” The piece was still intact and probably still worked. He wondered if it could be repurposed to shoot something other than webbing.

“Do you still have the drive Fiers gave you?” He nodded. “Good, we need to find out where your suit’s being held.” She waved her hand and their masks were gone. Now they looked like they could be any other random person walking New York’s streets at night.

“I know just the place where we can do that,” he said as they stepped out of the ally.

“We aren’t going back to the mansion?”

“Not yet. I don’t trust Fiers not to have tampered with this.”

The internet café was the kind that was open 24/7, about a forty five minute walk from where they’d met. A few people were scattered about, which gave them just enough cover. Harry led them over to a computer tucked away in the far corner.

“What is this place?” she asked.

“An internet café. I need you to watch the door,” he said as he plugged the drive into the computer.

“You’re going to open up a sensitive file in front of everyone?”

“Safer than doing it at the mansion. If Fiers put a tracking device or virus on this thing I’d rather not risk opening it back home.”

There was only one file on the drive, inconspicuously titled ‘New Folder,’ which only contained one file identified only by a series of random numbers and letters. “Here we go,” he murmured and clicked.

It was an inventory report, dated at least four months after his fight with Peter. Most of the items didn’t make any sense— _what the hell is a magnetic repulsor watch?_ —but listed at the top was a ‘prototype exo-skeleton Osc’ followed by numerous pieces of machinery that he assumed came from his busted glider. _Okay this is good and all but where are…_

“Oh fuck me.”

“What? Did Fiers betray us?”

_Probably…._ His thoughts and heart were racing. He shook his head and pulled the flash drive out of the computer, compelled by the sudden urge to _get out of there_. “Everything is with S.H.I.E.L.D.”

* * *

“How could S.H.I.E.L.D. possibly have your equipment?” Sigyn asked once they were back at the mansion. Harry grabbed a beer from the fridge, popped the cap off, and chugged as much of it as he could in one go. It had been that kind of night. “Harry?”

“Damned if I know. Maybe they’re watching Spiderman and took anything connected to him.”

She muttered a curse in a foreign tongue under her breath. “We need a new plan.”

“I have one,” he said and chucked the rest of his beer. He couldn’t believe he was about to suggest this but he’d been thinking about it the entire way home. “We’re going to break into S.H.I.E.L.D. and destroy it.”

“Absolutely not! It’s too dangerous.”

“You’re the one whose been saying I need more experience.”

“Yes, on a smaller target. This is going from the sparring ring with wooden swords to a full scale battle. And last night you didn’t even want to break into the precinct.”

He really wanted another beer right now, or some pot. Anything that would take the edge off. “What would you do if something you built fell into enemy hands?”

Sigyn drummed her nails on the countertop and kept her gaze down. He knew what she’d say, even before she said it. “I’d get it back, or find a way to destroy it.”

_Fuck it_ , he needed that second beer and grabbed it from the fridge. “That suit has Oscorp written all over it, literally. We have to destroy it and all record of it.”

“Have you considered that this could be a trap? Maybe Fiers has told them something.”

 “Tipping off S.H.I.E.L.D. is ballsy, even for him. He’d run the risk of them looking to closely into him.”

She shook her head. “I do not like this plan.”

“Do you have a better idea?” He snapped. “Because as it stands now, our two options are either let one of our greatest enemies keep a piece of tech they can trace back to us, or we can get it back. Neither is a good idea but if you’ve got a better one I’m all ears.”

Sigyn fell silent for a long moment, her brows furrowed together, and she chewed on her bottom lip as she thought it over. Finally, she let off a long string of foreign curses and grabbed a beer as well. “This is beyond foolish.”

“Story of my life. In fact, I’m sure this isn’t even the craziest thing I’ve done this year.” It wasn’t any crazier than injecting himself with radioactive spider venom on a _hunch_ it might work, or entrusting his health, freedom, and safety to a centuries old Viking space princess. But if he left his suit in that facility, he would always be looking over his shoulder for a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, or Spiderman, or hell the Avengers. He would never get stronger that way, never be able to defeat Peter, never be able to keep Sigyn from having the shit beaten out of her to protect him. He needed to be stronger to protect them.

* * *

_Harry was back at his cell in Ravencroft. The cement walls were damp and moss covered. The straight jacket he was in came apart in shreds, orange ribbons pooling around his feet like snakes. His breath materialized in front of him in a white cloud, and gooseflesh prickled his arms. Sobbing echoed behind him, and when he turned around the bars of his cage were gone._

_He followed the sound, but could not tell when the prison became a cave. The ground was squishy and muddy beneath him, and he followed the sobbing. Bright iridescent veining ran along the walls that illuminated the cave more than it should have. He stepped on something that was definitely not the ground, and a roar shook the cave and reverberated in his bones. A pair of eyes glowed red in the darkness, and Harry saw rows of flashing white teeth. A giant serpent with a mouth big enough to swallow him whole stared right through him but didn’t move._

_Beneath the serpent, a man lay bound to a rock by some kind of rope. His skin was pale, so pale that it seemed almost blue. The serpent’s venom had made a ruin of his eyes; they were burned out pools of red and black gore. Were it not for the rise and fall of his chest and his ragged breathing, Harry would have thought the man was dead. A woman with light brown hair covering her face held a bowl of the man’s face, collecting the venom as it fell. Like his face, her hands were covered in acid burns, some so severe the bones showed through on her knuckles._

_‘I know this,’ some part of him thought, though he knew he had never seen such a place._

_He tore his gaze away and followed the rope to its source. A body, a young man with shaggy dark blond hair matted with blood lay on his side. His abdomen had been ripped open, and his entrails pulled out and used to bind the man._

_“Harry…”_

_That voice. The woman looked up at him, deep red claw marks under her eyes. He knew her._

_“Mom…”_

_The venom spilled out over the edge of the bowl, and the man—Loki—screamed in agony._

* * *

The hours crept on, marked by the ticking of the wall clock. Sigyn sat curled on the sofa, tracing the rim of her mug with her finger, lost in thought. She knew she should return to bed, that rest would be the best remedy for the ache in her joints and in her back. With rest she would be able to think clearly enough to come up with plan that would ensure their survival. Harry’s insistence that they destroy his equipment had caught her off guard and left her without a clear course of action. And what had brought on this sudden recklessness? One day he could barely be convinced to scout a police station, the next he wanted to storm a S.H.I.E.L.D. compound, a course of action that made _her_ nervous this time.

Still, S.H.I.E.L.D. had been involved in her husband’s capture. Their archives would hold everything about him, his attack, perhaps eve how he survived or made it to Earth without the Bifrost. If she could get into their records…

A terrible scream broke her out of her thoughts. _Harry…_ She nearly knocked over the tabled as she bolted to his room.

“Harry!” she cried as she burst into his room.

He was seated upright, panting and shaking. His skin was green and splotchy, and his teeth were sharp. But there was no sign of an intruder; the windows were still closed, and aside from the usual clutter—clothes, shoes, books—nothing seemed out of place.

“It’s nothing,” he panted. “Just…just a nightmare. I’m fine.”

Whatever his dream had been, it had been terrifying enough that when he looked up at her, his eyes said something different: _No, I’m not._

“Shhh…come here.” She sat beside him on the bed and guided him closer so that his back rested against her chest, and he tilted his head back against her shoulder. His pulse was still elevated, but at least his breathing had steadied.

Freya hadn’t been one to tell her daughter’s lullabies; instead, Sigyn’s childhood had consisted of war stories and the deeds of great heroes. As such, she lacked a wealth of lullabies to draw from. But she did know of a few ballads that had soothing melodies, even if the lyrics invoked heartbreak. The tension eased out of his body as she hummed the melodies and traced her thumb over his tattoo, working magic into it.

“Is this…a ritual?” he slurred. When his eyes fluttered open, they revealed the bright, slightly unnatural blue glow of his eyes. She’d noticed it when she first gave him that tattoo, and every time after when he’d work on controlling his abilities. It was a good sign; it meant he still had a decent grasp on it.

“Shhh,” she murmured and smoothed some of his hair. “It’s just a lullaby.”

Minutes turned to hours, and the city came back to life as dawn lightened the sky. Harry’s transformation had completely receded, and he was sleeping peacefully.

Sigyn laid him back on the bed and tucked him under the sheets. This nightmare had her worried. She knew so little about his illness or about the venom he injected himself with that trying to help him control it felt like guess work sometimes. Still, something as simple as a nightmare shouldn’t have caused this reaction. She leaned forward and kissed his forehead.

“Sleep well, little goblin.”

Something caught her attention out of the corner of her eye. A pillow had been pushed aside, revealing a book that had been hidden beneath it: the Poetic Edda. Sigyn knew, with a deep seated dread in her stomach, what he likely found while reading it. The book’s spine had been broken at the spot she feared: the binding of Loki and slaughter of her sons. She’d hoped he wouldn’t discover these stories, but she wasn’t surprised he had. The boy was curious, and the mortals had never been shy about the stories they created about them. She placed the book back under the pillow. It was a discussion for another time. Right now, she needed rest, and to prepare for this foolhardy plan.

* * *

The technology of Midgard was primitive, crude, but Sigyn still had to give S.H.I.E.L.D. credit. Though still archaic by Asgardian standards, their computer system was more advanced than what was at the mansion or at Oscorp. Sneaking past their security hasn’t been easy either, and between that and the tediousness of trying to infiltrate their system, this whole endeavor was taking longer than she’d like. She had the information from Fiers, but trying to find one shipping record was like trying to find a single spell buried somewhere in the archives. Outside she could hear the voices of agents going about their business, and each time she was certain one of them would open the door and find her. Fighting her way out of S.H.I.E.L.D. base was not how she planned to spend her afternoon.

Finally, she found the information she was looking for. The equipment was being shipped out the following night what she assumed was an airfield, and then it was to be flown to some place called The Fridge, whatever that was. Sigyn sent the information to Harry first through the watch he gave her, before downloading a backup of it to his flash drive.

_I should leave_ , she thought as she nearly pulled the drive out of the computer, but stopped just before she could. She still had access to all of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s files. She should check to see what, if any, information they had on Spiderman, on Harry. _On Loki_.

“This is a bad idea,” she muttered as she strengthened her barrier that held the door shut.

They had little on Spiderman, mostly surveillance and some shots of him swinging between buildings. If she wanted to see this, she could find it on the internet. Her chest tightened when she saw Harry’s name in their records. It was mostly what she remembered wiping from the records at Ravencroft—medical records and test results—but these also included pictures and reports from the night he lost to Spiderman.

_‘Mentally unstable,’ ‘violent,’ ‘damaging physical mutations,’ ‘dissociative,’ ‘possibly homicidal.’_

Nothing identified him as Gwen Stacy’s killer, only as a possible suspect. And there was nothing about him being free, either, which was a good sign. Still, she couldn’t just let them keep this information. “You won’t be needing this,” she whispered and pressed delete.

ACTION: DENIED

She froze, waiting for the sound of blaring sirens and guards storming the room. Moments passed but none came. The room was silent save for the sound of her shaky breathing. This was her opportunity to leave, before they figured out someone was digging through their files.

And yet…she couldn’t leave, not until she’d satisfied her curiosity.

S.H.I.E.L.D. had a _wealth_ of information on Loki. Pictures of him in a glass cage, of him being escorted to said cage. The images of him from Stuttgart weren’t much different than what Harry had found online. There were images and video of the Destroyer he sent to some desert town. _That’s right,_ she remembered, _the town Thor was banished to…_

Sigyn clicked on one of the videos next. The screen filled with an aerial view of people frantically moving about what looked like a large observatory. A single bright blue point, too far away for her to tell exactly what it was, drew her eye. Suddenly, a beam shot from it, tearing a dark opening in the air. Moments later, whatever this device was, it gave off a final, dying blast of energy, and when the portal closed…

“Loki,” she mouthed, grinning at her husband’s kneeling form. She needed this video, the pictures, everything, and moved to copy them all to the disk.

ACTION: DENIED

 “Shit!” she exclaimed, and immediately clasped her hand over her mouth. That had come out louder than she intended. For a moment she stood frozen, scarcely breathing, and waited. Someone had to have heard that.

Soon enough, the door handle rattled, and the barrier she put up shimmered and started to fade. “Who’s in there?” A deep male voice asked, still persistently shaking the door. “Open this door.”

With muttered curses, she yanked the flash drive out of the computer and closed all windows. Her disguise was still intact—hair the color of flame, a face marked by freckles, and facial features that were not her own—so with a deep breath she dropped the barrier around the door. It flew open, smacking the wall, and a man in a dark grey suit stepped into the room.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?”

“I-I’m with tech support,” she answered in a voice not her own.

“Tech support?”

She nodded. “I was told to come down here because the computers were acting up. Freezing, crashing, odd error messages, that sort of thing.”

“Who’s the supervisor that gave you this order?”

This man was asking too many questions, and each second someone else could come by and see them. “My supervisor…” Sigyn would never admit this out loud, but right now she almost wished she had Lorelei’s abilities to control men with her voice. He closed the gap between them, and she reached out to cover his eyes with her hand. “Sleep,” she commanded.

The man grabbed her wrist and staggered. “What’re…” he slurred.

“Sleep,” she commanded again. This time, he dropped down to his knees and slumped over. She dragged him so that he was hidden underneath the desks. This spell would only last for a few minutes, so she hurried out of the room and closed the door behind her.

* * *

It had rained earlier that night. Small puddles dotted the sides of the street, and a damp, cold mist seemed to linger in the air.  Sigyn didn’t seem bothered by it. She sat behind him on the motorcycle, still as stone, and at time he thought she had left. ‘I’m still here, little goblin,’ she’d whisper whenever he’d turn his head to make sure she hadn’t left. Their truck pulled out of the garage, and as they followed it, Sigyn wrapped an arm around his waist. Blending in with the traffic and keeping their distance was easy. But as the number of cars dropped, his heart sped up and the adrenaline coursed through him. He could feel the hum of the motorcycle’s tires on the pavement, and could hear the buzz of the cars they passed.

_This is it_ he thought as he sped up so that they were closer to the truck but still a ways back. He felt Sigyn adjust herself and grab something, her dagger, from around her waist. The dagger glimmered under the streetlight just before it hit the right rear tire. The metal rim screeched as it grinded along the pavement as the truck started to spin out. Harry didn’t see the second dagger, but the second rear tire blew out just like the first one did. Rain had made the roads slick, and without two rear tires it didn’t take long for the driver to lose control of the truck. They dropped back as it careened down the road, sparks flying from where metal ground against pavement, only stopping when it crashed head on into a streetlight. The impact crunched the front of the front of the truck so that it seemed to wrap around the streetlight. The light gave out as well and plunged the immediate area into darkness.

Sigyn hopped off the motorcycle before he had even stopped and rushed up to it. While she placed a grenade near the door, Harry scanned the surrounding area. Someone must have heard the crash and if not they will certainly hear the door being blown off. The blast however did not shatter windows and set off car alarms as he feared, but it did alert every dog in the area. Voices murmured in the distances and soon sirens would follow.

She handed him another bomb. “You know what to do.”

Harry climbed into the truck and started rummaging through the cargo. Finding the boxes didn’t take long. Like the broken pieces of his glider, which were in a nearby box, the suit seemed like it had been separated into smaller components. He had vague memories of the suit being taken off of him when he was captured, of pieces being ripped and torn away from him. He chucked the bomb between the boxes holding his armor and his glider, and hopped out of the truck.

The sirens were getting closer just as the bomb went off. One of the drivers had crawled out of the truck and was lying curled up on the ground, obviously in pain. “What about him?” he asked.

“Leave him; we have to…” Two shots rang out, and on the second one Sigyn yelled and grabbed her waist. The man on the ground held out a gun with a trembling arm.

Harry lunged at the man lying on the ground and his whole world turned red.

* * *

The bullet had grazed her side and nothing more, but Sigyn still fired off a string of curses that would make a Dwarven miner blush. Midgardian bullets wouldn’t do anything more than superficial damage to her, but they still hurt none the less.

Harry was atop the man who shot at her, pummeling his face with bone crunching blows. In the distance she could see the blue and red flashing coming closer. “We need to go!” she yelled, but he didn’t stop, didn’t look up or even acknowledge that she had said anything. The man was surely dead at this point, and if he wasn’t then he was near enough. She rushed over and grabbed his arm before he could land another hit. His head whipped around and she could practically hear the snarl behind the mask. “ _Goblin_ ,” she said pointedly, knowing exactly who she was talking to. “We need to leave. Now!”

 “Freeze!” The first of the police cars had arrived and two officers were pointing their guns at them. “Hands in the air!”

“Get ready to run to the bike,” she said quietly, raising her hands.

“I’m not leaving you behind again,” he snarled.

“I didn’t say you were.”

The officers stepped closer. “On the ground! Now!” Sigyn watched their every movement calmly, patiently. _Just a little bit closer,_ she thought as the officer moved to grab her wrist.

A bad idea for him, really.

She grabbed his arm and twisted hard enough for something to crack and the man screamed. His partner let go of Harry and raised his gun towards her. The struggling officer she held in front of her as a deterrent; shooting her meant shooting his friend. Harry bolted towards the bike just as the officer pointed his gun towards him, and Sigyn growled and grasped the guard she held firmly with both hands.

She screamed, feral and driven solely in that moment by vengeance and protectiveness. She lifted the man up and swung, tossing him into the other officer before he could fire at Harry, and they were thrown back a few feet as they collided. While they still struggled on the ground, Sigyn climbed onto the motorcycle behind Harry and he sped off.

It didn’t take long for more sirens and cars to find and surround them. Several cars were trailing behind, and in the distance she could see more red and blue lights coming their way. She could conjure two, maybe three, more knives to take out one of the cars, but it wouldn’t be enough. “Any ideas?” she yelled.

“You still have one more bomb, right?” She did. “Throw it at that street light ahead. I’ll take us down another way.”

She unhooked the bomb from her belt and waited until they were close enough to the light. Harry made a sharp left turn and she threw the bomb at the streetlight. The blast knocked the light over just as the police cars ahead of them were getting closer. The cars behind them followed, tires screeching as the rounded the corner in pursuit.

“Got anything to lose them?” He called. “I’ve got an idea but I need them off our backs.”

If her side didn’t still hurt and she could trust that she would have decent aim, she would have conjured a few more knives to destroy their tires. But this was far more chaotic than attacking the truck and she needed something simpler. As Harry turned down another street and the police followed, Sigyn took a deep breath, held out her hand behind her, and materialized a barrier just behind them. It shimmered and seemed to vanish, until it erupted into iridescent ripples as the first car collided into it. The initial crash was muted, but as the next car crashed into the first one, and then another into that one, the sounds of metal crunching against metal soon followed. Harry sped up more, turned down several side streets, then several more, and soon there were no more sirens.

* * *

Hours later, having lost the police and dumping the motorcycle in the river, Sigyn laid across the sofa, the pain in her side lessening by the hour, watching Harry as he practically bounced around the living room

“We did it,” he cackled, running his hands through his hair, “I can’t believe we did that. That was…that was amazing!”

“It certainly was an interesting experience. Though I could do without being shot at.”

“Just think,” he continued almost as if he hadn’t heard her. “Imagine what we could do with some new armor and a glider. We’ll be unstoppable! Our enemies won’t know what hit them.”

His enthusiasm was infectious, overriding her initial reaction to replay where they could do better next time… _a better vehicle, more bombs or knives, better understanding of police response times_. She pushed herself up so she could see out the window and over the city. She could feel the pull towards chaos stirring within her and wondered if this was what Loki felt when he attacked Midgard. In that moment, she felt another connection to Loki, and it made her miss him all the more. Harry, still lost in his dreams of conquering Spiderman, had a little of Loki in him too, the same wild spark in his eyes whenever he was coming up with a new scheme or adventure. There would be other nights for careful planning and tempered expectations, she decided. Tonight, she would embrace the excitement and the chaos. This realm sorely lacked a trickster, and in banishing her husband, it had gained two more in his place.

 


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

They spent the days following their attack holed up in the mansion, keeping a low profile, and living off of take out and whatever else they could scrounge up in the kitchen. It had been Sigyn’s idea, and while Harry did see the wisdom in it, by the fourth day he itched to be out of the house, even if just for an hour or two. He found Sigyn in the living room, her elbows resting on her knees with a cup of coffee held between her hands. The T.V. was set to a local news channel that she wasn’t watching, and notes and sketches were sprawled across the coffee table.

“Have they said anything about us?” He asked, sitting next to her.

“Not since the day before last,” she answered, still staring at the papers on the table. If Harry had to guess, she’d been at this for the past few hours, at least since dawn. One of the pages had a dark stain from where he guessed she’d spilled some coffee on it.

“They had to have given up by now. We didn’t leave any evidence.” Harry had seen to that, making sure his motorcycle had been reported stolen beforehand, on the off chance that the bike was found, and gloves and masks meant to finger prints or facial recognition. “And the news can’t cover a non-story forever.” And after that first morning, news had been scant. If it wasn’t coverage of the Avengers latest actions or think pieces about where Spider-man had gone, it was the multitude of other smaller crimes. Something was always happening in this city that needed coverage.

Harry leaned over the coffee table, studying her designs. He understood the basics of the suit designs, but unlike his last one, he couldn’t make sense of the details. They clearly looked of Sigyn’s world, sleeker and more organic than his original. All were impressive and the choices were overwhelming. Still, he didn’t want to leave the sole decision to her. He had to prove to her that he wasn’t just relying on her to make all the choices for him.

He pulled one of the designs closer and examined it. Like all the others, it had been inspired by the goblin motif he had adopted: clawed gloves, a mask that covered the lower half of his face, armor that looked closer to scales than metal. In the margins surrounding the design were symbols he couldn’t quite place.

A small flash of light glimmered in her peripheral and Harry looked up to find ‘Loki’ standing beside the couch, looking over Sigyn’s shoulder. The illusion was nearly perfect; were it not for the fact that he knew better, he would have sworn the god of mischief was standing in his father’s office.

“What are we missing?” she muttered, possibly to herself, or possibly to both (or all three) of them. “I’ve built enough defensive runes into this armor that it would take even Mjolnir a long time to damage it. Theoretically, that is.”

“What about healing?”

“Also taken care of,” she answered. “And it won’t include that…” she gestured to the side of her face, around her cheekbone, and Harry knew what she was referring to.

“The neural interface?” She nodded. He wondered how she planned to add healing capabilities without it, but he didn’t miss it. The interface had been painful and difficult to remove, though that could have just been the oh so wonderful staff at Ravencroft.

While Sigyn continued to check off what she’d included in the designs, Harry pulled another design closer. The webshooter weighed heavily in his pocket. In the days following their last mission he’d spent hours staring at it, mulling over possible uses beyond projecting a stronger version of silly string.

“You said it has enough defenses. What about offense?” He could have sword he saw a smirk on ‘Loki’s’ face.

“Offense...an additional weapon might be beneficial, but you’d need additional training with it.”

“Mabye.” He pulled the webshooter out of his pocket and placed it in the middle of the table. “Spiderman uses this as his only weapon. If he can use this, then so can I. Only maybe something a little more exciting than webbing.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“That’s what I can’t decide on. Toxic gas maybe? Or acid, like it’d spit some kind of venomous…” _A venomous snake that spits acid_. The rest of the sentence died before he could utter it. Horror dawned on him as he realized what he was suggesting but more importantly who he was saying it to. Sigyn held the webshooter, seeming not to have registered what he said as she examined it. But ‘Loki’ seemed to flicker. He got the same sick, panicked feeling in his gut as he did when he was younger, when his father still bothered talking to him if only to express disappointment. He didn’t know which felt worse, that he’d disappointed her somehow or that he’d hurt her. What if she stopped helping him? What if she left? What if she lashed out at him?

“A weaponized webshooter…I hadn’t thought of that.” She looked up, smiling. “You’re quite clever; I only saw this as a trophy.” She was…pleased, then. He hadn’t expected that, and he almost didn’t believe it. She must be hiding her disappointment in him, or masking painful memories. Still, Sigyn hadn’t lied to him before—kept a few things from him, sure—and he hoped he wouldn’t lie to her about this. “Acid sounds interesting, though we’d have to make sure you’re protected.”

“Some kind of toxic gas might be easier, since most of these already have a mask built into them. It’d be easier to modify the mask so that it has a filter.” Sigyn may not be upset about what he mentioned, but he still felt sick about it and wanted to move the conversation away from anything that could possibly remind her of venomous snakes. “What about your suit?”

“I’m not making one.”

“Um, yes you are.” It was probably insane and foolish to argue with an Asgardian, but he was going to anyway. “You got shot last time; you need armor.”

“I can summon my own armor if needed. Besides,” she patted her side, right over where she’d been shot. “It’s not as though Midgardian weapons do much damage.”

“Yeah, _this time_. What about next time? What if someone catches you off guard and shoots you in the head or something?” He looked to ‘Loki’ half expecting to recruit his help in convincing her ‘Loki’ only stared at him, occasionally looking over Sigyn. Harry could have sworn he saw ‘Loki’ shrug, but he brushed the thought away. He really must be going insane if he’s treating an illusion like it was real. “You’re already getting a glider of your own. You might as well have a new suit as well.”

“Your concern is touching, though unnecessary.” Sigyn drummed her fingers on the table, her brow furrowed in thought, and glanced over to ‘Loki.’ “Still, I suppose it would be less obvious that the alternative.”

“Don’t tell me you have golden horns too.”

She chuckled and stood up. “Not quite.” A light sparked in the center of her chest and radiated outward in golden glittering waves. Her street clothes seemed to melt away wherever the light touched and revealed armor that was unmistakably alien. And it was more than a little similar to Loki’s. Golden armor decorated with intricate and delicately carved knot work adorned her arms and shoulders. Underneath was rich black fabric accented with green that seemed to shimmer when she moved. Instead of horns, she wore what looked like two golden fans, one on each side of her head.

 “Wow,” he breathed, more than a little awestruck still. “I could probably get basic cable with those things. Do all Asgardians have an…interesting headpiece?”

“Some do,” she answered, laughing. “Thor’s has wings.”

“Yeah you should probably save that outfit for when we kick the Avenger’s teeth in.”

“You mean like some kind of victory outfit?” He nodded, reminded of the picture of Loki in Stuttgart with a crowd kneeling before him. He imagined them standing before a beaten Spiderman, the Avengers having been thoroughly defeated, looking much the same way Loki did. “I suppose you’re right. Though if I’m going to have a victory outfit…” She made a motion with her fingers and muttered a few words. Harry could have sworn he saw something gold shimmer at the edge of his vision, but it was gone before he could pinpoint their source. Sigyn looked quite pleased with herself, and he thought for a moment that ‘Loki’ was smiling. “You should, too.”

He looked down, only to discover that his tee shirt and jeans had been replaced with gold and green armor. It was too light to be anything other than an illusion—it felt like nothing at all. It flickered when he moved too much, but he could see some of the ornate detail work on the arm guards. “Armor befitting a goblin prince,” she said.

Peter would probably shit himself if he could see him like this. Harry had regretted not being able to see Peter’s face when he learned the truth; he’d have to make sure the mask was off for this. He was grinning madly, wanting a selfie of them in their armor but also not wanting to move too much and risk destroying the illusion. “So, uh, I’ll definitely get something like this right? Because this…this is impressive.”

“Of course.” Sigyn waved her hand again, but Harry barely saw the armor disappear; one moment it was there, the next it was gone. Her armor was gone too, though Harry didn’t see this transformation, either. “What better way to remind them of exactly who defeated them.” She looked over to ‘Loki,’ who was beginning to flicker rapidly, and placed her hand through his shoulder, dissolving the illusion with a sigh.

“Why do you do that? The whole hologram thing?” Since that first night just after she moved in, he’d seen her create this illusion countless times. At first it was only when she thought he wasn’t around, quickly erasing the image when she noticed him. Over time, she stopped trying to hide it all together.

“Habit,” she sighed. “We always used to bounce ideas for new tricks and schemes off each other. I guess I just miss that.” She paused and began scooping up the designs. “And… I can’t bear the idea that he might be dead. So I keep him alive the only way I can.”

“So there’s a possibility he’s still alive?”

“A possibility, yes. I doubt Frigga would have allowed him to be executed, but Odin is unpredictable when angered.”

Harry had a sickening feeling she spoke from experience, but didn’t press the topic further. “We’ll find out the truth,” he promised. “We’ll bail him out of Asgardian jail if we have to.”

She chuckled and placed her hand on his shoulder. “Your determination is admirable. But that’s a goal for later. Right now, we must focus on our present mission.”

* * *

Their suits were nearly ready, only a few more days’ worth of work needed to be done. Sigyn noticed Harry had grown restless while waiting. He was determined, whether in his training, or even his work with Oscorp, quiet as it was, and he hated idling. She found him with his computer in his lap, frowning over whatever he was reading.

“Is there a problem?” she asked.

“No. Just reading stupid articles wondering where Spiderman is.”

“I see. Leave that alone for now. You’ll need your rest for tonight.”

He looked up from his computer, his eyes bright and a grin on his face. “We have a plan then?”

“Oh yes. Our reign of chaos begins tonight.”

Of course, their reign of chaos would have humble origins. It wasn’t as daring a mission as retrieving data from S.H.I.E.L.D. or their past dealings with Fiers or robbing an armored truck, but it was a better start. From everything she had gathered about Loki’s attack, it had been too much, too soon. A portal in the sky followed by an alien army was a good way to draw attention, but for now they needed something subtle, something they could build upon. They would terrorize this city, but they couldn’t afford to draw too much attention to themselves just yet.

She had Harry chose a location would get traffic, but not so much, since he still knew the city better than she did. He opted for another alley on a moderately busy street, each building providing them an expansive wall of brick.

“So what are we doing?” he asked, pulling his hood more over his face.

“We are going to cause some mischief,” she answered.

“Yeah, I get that but how?”

“Here.” She handed him a piece of paper with a sigil written on it. “Spray the sigil on the wall.”

Harry pulled a can of spray paint out of his bag, looked at the sigil, then to the paint can, then finally to the wall. “Graffiti? Really?”

“If that’s what you mortals call it, yes,” she answered, looking around the corner. “Now, do hurry, or else we’ll have to find another brick wall to vandalize.”

* * *

“How long is this supposed to take?” Harry asked.

“It varies. A few minutes, hours, days. The longest we ever had to wait was a few months. Loki and I had completely forgotten about it by the time it went off.”

“Months?” Harry took another slice of pizza out of the box. They were sitting on top of a building across from where they’d placed the sigil, a box of pizza between them. “This won’t take that long, right?”

“Not this time. We’re just waiting for the right moment.”

“Where’s you learn this trick anyway.”

“In a very old book with a few modifications. Loki and I used to leave these traps all over the palace, especially around Thor’s room. One time we laid a bunch around the arena right before the biggest games of the year. We’d never seen the All-Father so mad…” She trailed off and her smile faded for a moment. “I think we’re just about ready.”

Harry looked down at the street, his breath held, uncertain of what he was watching for. But there were more people in the streets as the bars started to close.

A woman’s shriek pierced the other street noise, and people parted as she bolted toward the street. What followed her was a mass of dark tentacles. They whipped and lashed at the gathered crowd, sending them running and screaming along the sidewalk into the street. Cars screeched to a halt to avoid hitting them, and more screams erupted as the tentacles spread out into the street.

Sigyn was cackling beside him. “What is that thing? Some creature from another dimension or something?” he asked.

“It’s just a bit of fun. An illusion.”

“An illusion. So it’ll just fade away as though nothing happened.”

“That is the idea.” Harry grinned and finished off the slice of pizza. “I had forgotten how much fun a little mischief can be.” She said wistfully.

The rest of the night they spent watching the crowds run from a monster that would be gone long before the sun rose.

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok everyone, this is a long chapter (like just over 20 pages and 9.5k words long). So get comfy, and grab a snack.
> 
> There'a also a brief mention of violence in the middle. just a heads up.

Chapter Nine

Simply put, Harry’s new glider was absolute perfection. It turned and adjusted, accelerated and slowed down with a smoothness the first glider had lacked. Using it was less like learning how to surf and more like what he imagined flying would be like. And it was quiet! The last one sounded like there were small rockets attached to the back but this…this was clearly built for stealth. He felt like a shadow, a ghost.

His suit too felt like a vast improvement. Not clunky, or heavy, or overly mechanical, the suit was solid but still felt organic. It truly felt like a second armored skin. The joints especially were smooth and offered little resistance as he spray-painted a huge sigil on the glass of some skyscraper.

Harry drifted back a bit to examine his work, and then pulled his notebook out of the leather bag he had slung across his chest. They hadn’t been able to agree on a suitable storage option, so the leather bag had to suffice for now. He flipped to his copy of the symbol; he was certain he had done something wrong, missed something somewhere.

“Damn it…” He was right. He’d forgotten the squiggly line that was supposed to be on top, and he hovered over closer to correct his mistake. “That should be right,” he muttered, putting the notebook and the spray can back in the bag. Light and a bit of movement caught his eye. A janitor entered the room, not seeing the figure hovering outside the window.  He should run before he is seen. _Can’t fight Peter if I run from a janitor. Besides, he can’t see through my mask anyway_. So he’d wait and see how long it took for the man to notice him.

It didn’t take long. He looked up and locked eyes with Harry, frozen. There was confusion and a bit of fear. _Perfect_. Harry raised his finger to where his lips would be, and laughed hysterically when the janitor screamed and ran out of the room.

This time Harry tilted his glider upwards and soared higher, around the side of the building, and towards his meeting point with Sigyn.

“A hunter does not toy with his prey,” she said into his ear piece, and startled him almost off balance.

“Jesus Christ, Sigyn! What else do your elf eyes see?”

“If I had the sight of the elves, I would have seen that man coming sooner. And I would have seen that mistake you made sooner as well.”

“I made it right, didn’t I?”

“Because you were fortunate to have enough time to make it right.”

Harry rolled his eyes and continued to the rooftop of another building, where he found Sigyn standing close to the ledge, her glider resting not far from her.

“Three buildings tagged,” he said, stepping off his glider and onto the roof. “Their locations scattered and random. All three set to go off sometime in the next two weeks.”

She nodded, but said nothing. Harry didn’t need to guess what she was looking at through the binoculars. Avengers tower loomed in the distance. “So when do we get to deface Stark property?”

“Soon. We’ll need to figure out the kind of security he has, first. Then we’ll come up with a plan. I know you’re impatient, but we can’t rush this.”

Harry’s phone beeped several times and he scrambled to fish the phone out of his bag. There was only one reason he received notifications anymore. “Shit,” he muttered.

“Is there a problem?” she asked without lowering her binoculars.

“God I hope not.” He pulled up the video, which seemed to be uploaded within the last hour. It showed Spiderman pinning some guy, probably a mugger, against the wall by his wrist with webbing, and kicking the legs out from under his accomplice as he charged. “Shit. Spiderman’s back.”

This time she did lower her binoculars and turned to him. “Already?”

“The spider venom accelerates his healing.”

“I crushed his wrist. Even with his healing, it should have taken longer. Does it show where he is?” Harry shook his head. There was nothing distinguishing about the video; it never left the street level and nothing seemed familiar. “Then we’ll return home for the night.”

* * *

Harry returned to the living room with two large pizzas and several beers from the fridge. It was a tradition now; they successfully cause a little mischief, or in this case plant the seeds for some, and then they dine on pizza and beer, usually while watching something on what Harry called Netflix. Tonight’s showing was something he called a ‘historical period drama.’

“I confess, I’m surprised you chose this,” she commented as she tossed her empty pizza box to the side and grabbed her beer.

“Do you want me to change it?” He reached for the remote.

“No no, it’s quite interesting. I’m just surprised.”

“Yeah, well reality T.V. doesn’t hold any interest for me anymore. When you can transform into a green goblin creature, your best friend is an ancient Viking space princess, and your current goals include kicking the shit out of Spiderman and the Avengers, watching spoiled celebrities kind of loses its luster.” He took a drink of his beer. “Think of it as broadening my horizons, trying to be a more well-rounded individual.”

“Would that explain the sudden influx of books you’ve been buying?” He didn’t look at her. They’d never discussed what he’d found in either of the Eddas, and it wasn’t a topic she knew how to approach. It really shouldn’t be either. The one story about her wasn’t even true. But Harry would have other questions, and those would cause other stories to bubble to the surface. But she’d avoided talking about this for so long, it felt worse to drag out this out more. “Be wary of some of what you read. Not all of it is true.”

 “So, the story I found about you and Loki, the one in the cave?”

“Completely fictional. Those were written long after Asgardians stopped coming to Earth. The truth is Loki and I never had children, and until recently, Loki wasn’t responsible for the death of anyone. There was never a snake, a cave, dead sons, or me holding the bowl over him.”

“That’s…God that’s so fucked up!”

She shrugged. “It’s an old story that’s been around so long I tend to forget about it. I should have told you all of this sooner but…”

“No, I get it. It’s like a medieval tabloid.”

“Tabloid?”

“You know, those magazines full of celebrity gossip. They make shit up about me all the time: who I’m dating, which club I overdosed in.”

“Still making up wild tales. For all your technological advancements, humanity has changed so little.”

Wild tales passed down over generations. Would this be how others would dramatize her plight, told over and over again in sensationalized scenes that bore little to no resemblance to the truth? Would she be villainized, the way Loki had been in the media now?

Since coming here, she’d tried not to dwell on what had happened to her for too long, and deliberately tried not to think too much on what had happened to Loki. Rescuing Harry and training him, securing his safety, had become her top priority once she had settled in New York. But every day he grew stronger, and more like Loki in some ways. She looked at him and saw their legacy, something more than just the wild stories. It was her chance to give both of them something more than just what others said about them: a legacy that they created.

_But if you fail, you will be his doom._

* * *

Unlike most everyone else he knew, Harry didn’t really mind traffic. There was a fair amount of bias, of course. He usually wasn’t the one driving, and there were rarely any consequences if he showed up later than expected. This was one of the rare quiet moments he had.

Today, however, traffic was taking longer than usual. His driver had taken a handful of detours, and this drive was already feeling tedious. “God what is taking so long?”

“It’s the parade, sir,” his driver answered, even though Harry hadn’t directed the question at him.

“What parade?”

“The one for the anniversary of the Incident. There will be a parade and then a memorial service.”

“The Incident? Oh, fuck.” How could he forget that? There hadn’t been any news coverage about the memorial. Or had there? The only news he followed anymore was about Spiderman, maybe the Avengers if a relevant story came up, but he’d completely missed this. The news channels would all be flooded with footage and commentary of today’s events. Sigyn would be in a shit mood today if she saw any of it. He nearly had the driver turn around to head back to the mansion, but they were almost to Oscorp. Still, he’d cut his day short; there was only one thing he absolutely needed to do here, anyway.

* * *

The mansion was too quiet when Harry returned home that evening. A heavy unease had settled in the air, and the hairs on his arm stood up. Sigyn’s office was empty, though it looked like she had been working in there recently. The roomed smelled slightly of smoke; two of her candles had been extinguished recently. One of her books was open and there was a piece of paper with a couple rough designs for a new rune sigil.

“Sigyn?” he called, and he thought there was an answer coming from the living room. The closer he got, the stronger the uneasy feeling became. His heart pounded in his chest. “Sigyn?” he called again.

“I’m in here, Harry.” At least she sounded normal, and as he rounded the corner into the living room, he saw that she looked alright.

He couldn’t say the same for the living room.

Granted, he’d trashed it pretty bad the night Spiderman refused to help him, and this was nowhere near as bad as what he’d done. Still, the sofa that she sat on was at a sharp diagonal as though she had kicked one end of it. The coffee table was much closer to the TV now than it was when he left. A couple pillows from the sofa were strewn about the room. Bits of broken glass and china were scattered on the floor in front of her. She was hunched over on the couch and picking what he assumed was broken glass out of the cuts on her hand.

“I’m sorry about the mess,” she said flatly.

“Forget about that. Are you alright?”

She nodded towards the TV without looking up. It was muted, but it was on one of the many stations covering the parade and the memorial. “If I wanted to see an entire realm celebrating my husband’s defeat, I could have stayed in Asgard.”

“So don’t watch it,” he answered, looking around for the remote.

She sighed and pulled the last piece of glass from her hand. “I never told you what happened to me in Asgard.”

 “Your exile? I mean, I wasn’t going to pry…”

“Yes, but you want to know,” she said looking up at him.

Of course he did. When an Asgardian shows up on your doorstep, one has questions. But at the time he’d been so grateful to her for freeing him that he decided his questions weren’t important. “Sure.” He sat on the sofa next to her. “Maybe you’ll feel better if you talk about it?” God that sounded stupid, but if Sigyn thought it was she didn’t say so.

“Not exactly. But you deserve to hear the whole story before someone else has the chance to corrupt it.” She looked back to the T.V.

“So tell me.”

 “It’s not a happy story.”

“Yeah, because we’ve lead these fairy tale lives.”

“I did once.” Sigyn leaned back into the couch and took a deep breath. “Very well. You might want to grab more ale; it’s a long story.”

* * *

 

***

The blast rocked the palace. Dread settled like a weight in Sigyn’s stomach as she watched the observatory crumble and fall into the abyss, but she saw no sign of Loki. ‘Please,’ she prayed. ‘Please be alright.’

In the hours following the blast, Sigyn found that she was forgotten in the confusion and chaos. Loki had sealed her in her chambers with a kiss and a promise; he swore he’d come back, and when he did things would be different, better. But as she banged on the door and begged to be let out, no one came for her.

Hours later, when she’d screamed herself hoarse, and the chaos had died down, her door opened. Thor stood in the doorway, Loki’s helmet in his hands.

***

Time passed slowly, or perhaps quickly, she’d lost track. Revelry could be heard everywhere in the palace, and the muffled sounds of celebration chaffed and scraped against her nerves. Every cheer that sent Thor’s name echoing through the halls squeezed the air from her lungs and more tears from her eyes. Sigyn had kept to her chambers. Let Asgard celebrate; she would not join them.

Frigga discovered her while the celebration still burned late into the night. “You weren’t at the banquet,” the queen said, standing beside her.

Sigyn didn’t move; she stared out across the courtyard towards the remains of the Bifrost. “Forgive me, my queen. I was not in the mood for revels.”

“You’re not alone in that feeling.”

Another cheer came up from the crowd and she flinched, folding her arms across her chest as if to shield herself from it. “I cannot bear the sound of their celebrating.”

She placed her hand on Sigyn’s back. “I know it’s hard.”

“Hard?” Tears streaked down her cheeks. “My husband is dead, yet I do not hear any of them cheer for him. In fact they are decidedly silent when it comes to Loki. No past stories of glory, no fond memories of him. I’d swear there are some who are glad he’s dead.” The queen looked stricken, and Sigyn regretted her sharp tone. “Forgive me; my grief speaks for me.”

“You are not alone in your grief. I miss my son. I mourn for him every night, and so does Thor.” She sighed. “But I did not come here to upset you.” A servant appeared with a tray that held a carafe of wine and two glasses. “Neither of us should suffer this loss alone.”

Despite the queen’s kindness, and the many hours of tears and shared stories, Sigyn couldn’t shake the anger that had burrowed in her.

***

Thor found her back of the garden, where a great tree with blooming golden flowers offered them a shady respite from the sun. The tree held as many memories for her as the palace; this had been one of their meeting places whenever they needed a brief escape from life at court. Sigyn had hoped she could still feel him here. Instead she felt nothing.

“I’m glad to see you out of your rooms,” Thor said, sitting beside her. “I thought you might have grown roots there.”

“Concern for my well-being seems to a popular topic of late.” Sigyn looked towards a group of women and men who were a respectable distance away but would occasionally look over to her and whisper amongst themselves. “Despite all efforts, rumors still spread like weeds.”

Thor took her hand in his. “Ignore them. It’s just idle gossip.” The group of people moved on when they realized she was staring right back at them. He gave her hand a squeeze. “I’m worried about you, Sigyn.”

He was one of a small handful who truly was. Everyone else’s condolences had felt stiff, almost pitying. “Don’t be. I’ll be fine.” It was a lie, one that Thor saw right through. Still, she insisted. “Truly.”

“But you’re not now. Your maids say you eat little and sleep even less.”

“You’re spying on me?”

“I didn’t have to. They came to me and mother.”

She let out a sigh and slumped against the tree while contemplating getting new maids. “It’s just grief, Thor. It will pass.”

“If there is anything I can do, anything you need…”

She needed her husband back, but when she opened her mouth to say so only a whimper came out. Thor shifted so that he physically blocked her from any other prying eyes who might be watching her. She had sobbed so much that by now all she could muster were a few pathetic whines as she wept. She could hear Thor sniffling beside her.

“I’m sorry, Sigyn, for everything that’s happened.”

Sorry wouldn’t bring Loki back, but she guessed Thor knew that too. “Now what?”

“I’ve asked myself that question every day since he…” So Thor couldn’t say it either; Sigyn gave his hand a comforting squeeze. “I wish I had answers for you, for both of us. The best I can offer is to honor him however you can and to take each day as it comes.”

***

So she buried herself in her books: Ancient tomes on magic as well as more recent works, books of poetry and the histories of all nine realms, favorites of hers before she met Loki and new ones he’d introduced to her. She could stay here forever, she thought, devouring the archives. It was quiet, and the reminders of Loki didn’t bring painful memories.

And it worked, for a time.

***

On more than one occasion, she thought of leaving Asgard once the Bifrost was complete. Surely her father would welcome her back to Nidavellir, or she could find old friends on Vanaheim or Alfheim. The palace was too rich with memories.

Yet every time she approached the bridge to arrange this trip with Heimdall, her chest clenched and she felt sick to her stomach. Loki had fallen there, and she couldn’t bring herself to go near it.

***

One night, desperately lonely, she did something she hadn’t had the courage to do since he….

With a deep breath, she summoned an illusion of Loki. His memory was still fresh in her mind and the likeness was perfect. He chest tightened and tears fell from her eyes.

“Why?” her voice cracked. “Why did you do it? Why didn’t you tell me? I…I could have helped you.” The last she said as a whisper. She’d been told about Loki’s plan and his parentage the night he died, and ever since she’d wondered if she’d helped him, would he still be alive. The illusion stared back at her, silent and expressionless.

A rage that had settled in her since Loki fell bubbled to the surface. Her hand closed around one of the horns on Loki’s helmet, and with a feral yell she hurled the helmet at him. The illusion vanished and the helmet crashed into the mirror. She sank down into her bed, tears welling in her eyes, and sobbed.

***

In time, magic, books, travel, rage, all lost whatever curative power they had over her. Most of her days were spent in her bed, lying on her back staring at the ceiling with Loki’s helmet beside her.

“You should really get up,” she imagined he’d say. One night she could have sworn she heard him say it, his voice coming in on the breeze.

“And you really shouldn’t have gotten yourself killed,” she whispered into the darkness.

***

Unlike many of her friends, Amora had not completely abandoned her. Her usual biting wit was tempered, and she would often sit in the garden with Sigyn for hours on end. Sometimes it was in silence, sometimes she would share the latest gossip, though Sigyn suspected the gossip was filtered so as to not upset her. Nothing political, but somehow Amora knew of every affair and banal scandal in the palace.

“You should come with me,” she offered after explaining that she would be leaving for one of the far reaches of Asgard to learn from another group of mages. “It’ll be fun. This place has become stale anyway.”

Sigyn sighed, too tired to argue against it for a third day in a row. “Amora…”

“He wouldn’t want you wallowing in misery here, anyway.”

“I am not wallowing.”

Amora rolled her eyes. “This is classic wallowing. Not that a little bit isn’t justified in your case, but Loki would kill me if I didn’t do something to help you.”

“If Loki was so concerned about my well-being, he wouldn’t have died.” Perhaps it was a bit unfair and petty—Loki couldn’t have known he was going to die—but she was still angry.

“Very well, you leave me no choice.” Amora stood up, walked over to her, and gripped her shoulders tightly. “I’m making this decision for you. You’re coming with me, and if you want to fight me on this, I’ll use a paralyzing spell and roll you out of the palace on a wagon.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Test me. If I have to carry you out of here like a sack of grain, I will.”

Sigyn took one more glance towards the palace. Amora was partially right; this place wasn’t so much stale as it held nothing for her anymore. And she wouldn’t put it past her friend to physically drag her out of the palace somehow. “Fine,” she sighed. “When do we leave?”

“Excellent! We’ll leave at dawn. You’ll thank me later for this, I promise.”

Dawn arrived with a crisp, cool wind, but Amora did not come with it. Knowing her friend, she was probably saying goodbye to one of her lovers. Not that Sigyn begrudged her that, but they would need to get moving if they were to make it the first town by nightfall. Tired of waiting, Sigyn grabbed her bag and headed for the door. If she had to drag Amora out of bed, she would make sure her heard about it the entire trip.

However, the queen stepped into her chambers before she could leave. “I hear you are leaving us.”

“I am. Whenever Amora decides she’s ready, we’ll leave.”

“I told her that you were still needed here and that you would meet her in a few days.”

The queen’s eyes were red and puffy, and her cheeks were wet. “My queen, what’s happened?”

Frigga sat on her bed and motioned for her to sit beside her. “You deserve to hear this before the rest of the realm does.”

***

Sigyn stormed into the throne room, pushing past the guards that tried to stop her. The All-Father was seated on the throne, leaning slightly against his spear. The air felt heavy and electric and smelled so strongly of ozone and magic that it nearly choked her as she got closer.

“Is it true?” She demanded as she marched right up to the steps, stopping herself just as she was about to climb the steps. Bowing was an afterthought she brushed aside. “Is my husband alive?” He was panting, but he pushed himself up straight. He looked so weak Sigyn thought he would fall into the Odinsleep.

A guard grabbed her arm and tried to pull her back, but the All-Father held up a hand and the guard let her go. “Yes. I’ve sent Thor to deal with him.”

“Deal with him? I don’t understand. Why not send me? I’m his wife, I could…”

“That is precisely why I did not. Because I would not waste energy on sending someone who wouldn’t be able to do what is necessary.”

“What is necessary?” Odin’s face betrayed no emotion, and Sigyn came to a sickening realization. “You mean to kill him.”

“Loki has to answer for his crimes. Thor will insure that he does.”

“That is cruel, even for you.”

“Enough, Sigyn.”

“You would pit one brother against another, as you always have.”

“I said enough!” He slammed his staff into the floor, and the boom rang in her ears and rattled her bones. “I will ignore this outburst and assume it’s from shock and grief, not that Loki has managed to poison your mind. But you will do well to remember that your husband tried to start a war between Asgard and Jotunheim, and now he creates havoc across Midgard. Now leave. Grieve for him if you want, as the queen does. You may not have many more chances to do so.”

***

Loki was alive.

Sigyn paced around her room, that singular thought buzzing around her head. He was alive. And yet Odin would have Thor fight, and possibly, kill him. How could the All-Father see this as anything other than a gift, a blessing?

She would have made him see that too; she would have begged and bargained for Loki’s life, but Odin refused another audience with her.

At dawn she’d been ready to leave Asgard, but by dusk she was plotting to save her husband. She could sneak off to Midgard and try to reason with Thor and join Loki, but she didn’t know the passages between the worlds the way Loki did. If he was captured and brought back to Asgard, he would be heavily guarded; if she attacked the guards to save him, she would be easily overwhelmed. No, to save Loki from the axe, she would need support. Loki had never been popular amongst the nobility, and probably less so now if they knew of his true heritage. She had a few allies she might be able to call on, but would that be enough?

She picked up Loki’s helmet, smoothed over the scuff marks from when she through it, and placed a kiss on it. She vowed she would not let them kill her husband without a fight.

***

Her efforts were slower than she would have liked, but they were not entirely in vain. There were a few members of court who had been willing to at least hear her argument out, and they hadn’t laughed at her outright. News from Midgard, however, was still too tightly guarded; if anyone knew anything, they didn’t tell her. Even the queen was silent on the matter. Still, she continued to petition the All-Father for an audience. One way or another, she would get through to him.

Finally, a guard came to her with news: the All-Father had agreed to meet with her.  But when she arrived in the throne room, it wasn’t the private audience she expected.

At least half of the court was in attendance; most she had spoken to about Loki, others she hadn’t bothered with because she knew she couldn’t count on their support. Her mother was there, dressed in her gleaming armor, with her brother Freyr beside her. Sif and the Warriors Three stood near the throne, grim and almost pitying. Yet it was the queen’s absence that worried her the most.

Sigyn held her head high as she approached the throne. She could feel the intensity of his gaze when she bowed before him. “Thank you, All-Father, for agreeing to this audience.”

“You think I called you here because you requested it? Do not take me for a fool, Sigyn. There are rumors of growing support for Loki’s actions. I may only have one eye, but even I can still see where such rumors would originate.”

Sigyn took a deep breath; she had planned for this. “I fail to see the issue here. Loki’s actions were perhaps a bit grandiose, but your implied punishment seems excessive. And it would appear that I am not alone in that feeling,” she said, keeping her head high. No matter how much her heart pounded, she would not cower in front of him.

“It is not your place to judge these matters. Or anyone else’s. Loki tried to destroy Jotunheim; he must pay for that.”

“And Thor’s actions could have destroyed two worlds! A war between Jotunheim and Asgard could have dragged on for years, decades, or even centuries. Drastic as they were, Loki’s actions might have staved off something worse.”

“A lot of speculation does not excuse the blood of an entire realm on his hands.”

“With highest respect, All-Father, how much blood is on yours?” A murmur rippled through the crowd. “Or Thor’s? At least half the people standing in this room have blood on their hands. We are a warrior culture. You yourself have led countless wars, even against Jotunheim. You have conquered realms as your father and grandfather did before you. Why are Loki’s actions any different?”

“You would ignore your husband’s atrocities and try to claim that he’s actually a warrior like us?” Tyr asked, stepping forward. His sword was visible at his side, his shield slung across his back, and his armor glistening in the light. “You are mad, Sigyn. Loki was more enamored with his magic and schemes than glory in battle.”

“True, my husband loved his tricks. But you cannot deny that it was a bold move to attack Jotunheim the way he did. He’s certainly bolder than you in that regard.” A ripple went through the crowd, small at first, but even small ripples can be far reaching. In it, she heard promising whispers.

“Enough, Sigyn.” Odin raised his hand, and the crowd stopped murmuring.

Sif looked to the All-Father, who hadn’t taken his gaze away from her until now. He nodded, and Sif approached closer. “Loki is on Midgard claiming he has an army. He means to make himself king. Are you still so quick to defend his actions?”

All Sigyn could do was stare blankly at her as the enormity of this news settled over her. When Odin said Loki was causing chaos on Midgard, she had thought small, something like illusions or minor destruction. But to claim kingship... It was dangerous ground, but much like this business with Jotunheim, she could not bring herself to weigh an entire realm against her husband.

She was now faced with two options. She could back down now, grovel before the All-Father, and regroup later. It was perhaps the wiser option, except then she would be under greater scrutiny. If she backed down now, she would lose any scrap of influence she might have gained. Her fight wasn’t done. “What of it? Kings acquire armies, do they not? If Loki means to rule Midgard, then he will need one.”

“You feel nothing for a realm Loki would rule as a tyrant.” Odin’s dispassionate composure unsettled her.

 “My lord, you raised both Thor and Loki to be kings. If it is your will to have Thor be king of Asgard, why not let Loki use what you have taught him to be king on Midgard?”

“So you can be its queen, right?” It was Freyr who spoke this time, and she turned to face him.

“Excuse me?”

“Who here gains the most from Loki’s rule on Midgard? If he wins, then it’s only a matter of time before he collects you and makes you his queen.”

The news about Loki’s attempted kingship had caught her off guard, and she had been so caught up in arguing for him, that she had forgotten that, yes, if Loki was king then she would be queen. It hadn’t been her motivation, but now the suggestion was in everyone’s minds. “It’s a clever, wild story, Freyr. It’s a shame there’s no truth to it. How can I plot to make myself queen when I didn’t know of my husband’s plan until just now?”

“My daughter has a point.” Freya’s voice drew the court’s attention. Sigyn would never have expected her mother’s support in anything involving Loki. In fact, they had spoken very little since her marriage.

“I am grateful for your support, Mother.”

“Oh, I am not giving you support. But Freyr’s story hinges on the belief that Loki would return for you. Why would he claim his Asgardian wife when he can take a beautiful mortal woman for his queen? One who might help smooth over the transition and make his reign more palatable.”

“I see you remain as sensitive as ever,” She snapped, stung by the accusation.

“And I see that you are still a naïve girl who is too beguiled by her husband’s silver tongue to see what he truly is.” Freya turned to the All-Father. “My daughter isn’t plotting for the throne of Midgard or Asgard. She is a love-struck fool, blinded by grief, and who thinks she is cleverer than she is. Allow me to take her back to Vanaheim. Some distance might help her see reason.”

Reason. To her mother, reason could be anything from locking her rooms for who knows how long to finding her another husband. “My lord,” she said quickly, before he could agree to her mother’s proposal. She had to turn this around. “What my mother and Freyr imply is not true. I have spoken to the people of Asgard, and they…”

 “So you’ve said.” He cut her off. “And you believe that you have their support? Very well.” Odin stood and gazed out at the court. “Any here who agree with Sigyn may come forward and claim their case.” Sigyn turned to face the crowd, expecting to see at least a couple of those she thought to have convinced step forward. Instead, she could see them shuffling uncomfortably, whispering amongst themselves. But no one came forward. “It seems they do not support you after all.” Sigyn wanted to scream, to call them all cowards. “You have lost, Sigyn.”

“We have ignored that realm for centuries and suddenly now it’s important?”

“The people of Midgard have done nothing to deserve an invasion from Loki and whatever army he’s managed to scrounge up.” Odin said, and Sigyn could see his hand clench around his staff.

“But they are not worth more than the life of your son!”

“At last, we have come to the truth,” he said. “You fear widowhood so much that you would condone treason.”

“Since when is ruling Midgard treason?”

“Aside from it going against my command? Loki has tasted the throne of Asgard. Do you really believe he would be content with anything else? When he grows bored of Midgard, he will turn his attention here. He will find a way to bring this army of his to Asgard and either lay waste to this land or die in the attempt. Do you really believe you would be able to stop him?”

No. She knew Loki would grow restless, and there was no answer to that question that would help her. Odin and her mother had made her look weak; answering yes only made her look like a foolish girl. To answer no either made her an incompetent co-ruler at best or a complicit traitor at worst. “I was unaware, my lord, that you were one of the Norns who could see the future so clearly.”

“Your excessive grief has made you delusional. Thor and Frigga, who have known and loved Loki longer than you, mourn for him, but they have accepted what he’s done and whatever fate he receives.”

“So that’s it, then? I’m to continue on as if nothing has happened, the way everyone else has, completely ignoring that I will have been made a widow twice by the same man. You are asking him to abandon him!”

“I’m commanding you to.”  Sigyn froze, horror-struck at the thought. “You will retract your defense of Loki and accept whatever punishment he is given.”

He was right; she had lost. Looking around, it was clear the court was no longer with her, as much as it ever had been. They watched her, murmuring, waiting. So she turned and fled down the steps and away from the throne. Two Einherjar marched forward and crossed their spears in front of her.

“I am a prisoner then?”

“Like your husband, you have attempted to sow chaos and dissent, and your excessive grief has made you unstable. Until your husband is dealt with, you cannot be allowed to go free.”

Once more, Sigyn turned to face the All-Father and stepped towards the throne. More Einherjar moved in her periphery, circling her. “You banish, kill, or imprison any who might disagree you, and yet you call my husband a tyrant.”

“Careful, girl,” he warned, his grip tightening around Gungnir. “You are still addressing your king.”

“You are not my king!” She shouted, horrified that the words were past her lips before she could stop them. The truth had burst out when she was backed into a corner. The hall fell silent, as stunned by her outburst as she was. Odin was still; there was no anger in his gaze, but perhaps there was disappointment. The line had been crossed and the damage was already done. “Loki is.”

“Perhaps I was wrong. It wasn’t grief; my son has clearly poisoned you.” Odin motioned to the guards and they grabbed her by the arms. She swung at them, but there were too many and they forced her to her knees even as she kicked and tried to crawl away.

A woman with her head covered by a hood approached her carrying a rod of black metal whose end was shaped into a symbol.

“In case anyone here still believes in the lies this woman has spread, let this be a reminder of the consequences.”

Sigyn looked around frantically, struggling as best she could against the guards. In a last desperate thought, she hoped her mother might intervene. But both she and her uncle were gone. The whole court stood watching. She was to be a public spectacle, a warning to anyone who might have sympathized with her. A third guard stood behind her, gripped the sides of her head, and forced her to turn her cheek to the woman. Sigyn inhaled deeply and squeezed her eyes shut. She would not break down and beg for mercy.

But she did scream as the brand seared into her cheek.

When it was done, and all she could smell was charred flesh and crackling ozone, the women pulled the brand away. Had it not been for the guards holding her up she might have collapsed to the floor.

“Sigyn Freyadottir, you have chosen the traitor Loki over the safety and security of Asgard and the Nine Realms. You have proven to be selfish, uncaring and shortsighted. Therefore, you are hereby exiled. You are stripped of your title, and any rights and privileges that came with it. If you crave chaos so much, may you find it wandering in your exile. Take her to the Bifrost.”

The guards hoisted her to her feet and had to practically drag her from the hall. Her feet stumbled as she tried to place on in front of the other. She desperately wanted to hold her head high to show that despite this humiliation she had not been beaten, but her limbs felt heavy like all the energy had been drained from her.

It seemed an eternity before they made it to the edge of the Bifrost. There was no great domed observatory yet, but there was still part of the mechanism that made the Bifrost work. It shouldn’t be operational. Her exile, she realized, wasn’t just exile from the palace or even the city around it; it was truly an exile from the entire realm.

Heimdall said nothing to her, but he was the only one to look at her with anything that resembled kindness, or maybe it was pity. “My king, the Bifrost is not fully operational. It may not have enough power to send her away.”

“That’s fine, Heimdall. I will supplement the rest.”

“Again? Are you sure that’s wise, my king?”

“She cannot remain in Asgard.”

Sigyn stared out over the edge of the Bifrost. Loki had fallen here, she remembered. He’d let go and fallen into the abyss of his own making. Fitting, she thought, that she should find herself here. She turned and looked beyond Odin, beyond the guards, beyond the Bifrost, towards the palace.

“One day I will be king, and you my queen,” Loki had whispered in her ear one night while they lay in bed, ruminating on their future. “And we will be the greatest monarchs this realm has ever known.”

Beside her, the machinery hummed and vibrated, while Odin called forth some kind of energy that felt like gusts of wind rushing past her. Sigyn supposed she should feel something as she faced her banishment. Instead she felt nothing. Too tired to feel rage or sadness, all she could do was stare at what could have been.

“I’m sorry, Loki,” she wanted to say.

There was a crash, a blinding flash of light, and Sigyn felt herself being lifted off her feet and flung backwards. Heimdall, Odin, the Bifrost, the palace, all were enveloped in white light.

‘ _This is not exile_ ,’ she thought as she fell. ‘ _They have thrown me from the edge._ ’

As soon as she was thrown, Sigyn crashed into the ground. Dirt, branches and leaves kicked up all around her in a cloud before settling back down. The air felt knocked from her lungs, and a sharp pain raced through her body.

Sigyn made no attempts to move, to attempts to determine which realm she’d been banished to. All she saw was dark trees reaching towards the night sky. The stars were unfamiliar constellations, glittering reminders that she was alone and far away from anything she’d ever known. All she could do was lay there and stare up at strange stars and wait.

***

Sigyn woke just before the woods did. Birds chirped in the distance. The sky was dark but the stars were gone, and the air was cool and damp.

‘I am a great fool,’ she thought, tears stinging her eyes. So many mistakes. She had been careless and rushed, and it could have cost her more. After her actions, Odin might have been more willing to send Loki to the axe.

Still, lying in the dirt and crying wouldn’t help her or Loki. Her joints and bone and muscles protested as she pushed herself up onto her elbows, and then rolled over so she could push herself to her knees. The shift in position only made the pounding in her head worse and she thought she might vomit. Her cheek still burned and throbbed, and when she touched it, it burned. Her legs wobbled as she pushed herself to her feet, but she remained standing.

First, she needed to find out where she was.

There was too much life to be Svartalfheim, and unlikely that it was Nornheim. Vanaheim perhaps? There were certainly enough trees. She picked a direction based on nothing in particular and started walking. Hunger pricked her belly, and finding food became just as necessary as finding out where she was.

The sun was fully in the sky by the time she made it out of the woods, and onto a wide road. Its smooth, black surface was painted with yellow and white stripes. So, not Vanaheim, then; she knew of no roads there that looked like this. Strange metal vehicles drove past her. None of this was familiar, but she figured that following these vehicles would lead her to some answers.

Eventually, Sigyn followed the road into a village that at least seemed well populated. Each side of the road was lined with buildings spaced apart. Vehicles lined up around a few of these buildings only to drive away. She watched a man walk out of one of the nearest building, adorned with a strange symbol comprised of golden arches, and he was eating something out of a bag. Her stomach growled, and she decided that this strange tavern would have to do for now.

And it truly was a strange tavern. She felt awkward and a little ridiculous standing in the middle of the main room, which was empty save for the young woman working behind the counter. Her smile died when she saw Sigyn.

“Oh my god! Ma’am are you ok?” she asked as she came over to Sigyn’s side of the counter.

“What realm is this?” she demanded.

The woman ignored her. “We need to get you to a doctor.”

Sigyn grabbed the woman’s collar and pulled her close. “I have had a very taxing night. What I need is to know where I am.” Her stomach gave an insistent growl and she added, “And breakfast. Now, I’ll ask again. What realm is this?”

“Realm?” the woman squeaked. “I don’t know. New Jersey? The United States?” None of those names meant anything to her; Sigyn clutched the woman’s shirt tighter. “Planet Earth?”

“Earth?” she rasped, letting the woman go.

“Here, give me a couple of minutes, and I’ll get you some breakfast. There’s a bathroom around the corner if you want to clean up.” The woman backed away and scurried away behind her counter.

The light flickered as she staggered into the bathroom. Midgard. The All-Father had exiled her to Midgard in some sort of sick jest. She wanted to throw up; she wanted to scream, to cry, to destroy this bathroom or even the whole tavern. He had doomed her and sent her to the very realm Thor tried to stop Loki from conquering.

But Thor hadn’t returned to Asgard, at least as of the last few hours. Loki might still be here, though she had no idea where to start looking for him.

She walked over to the sink and nearly jumped at the sight of herself in the mirror. A handful of leaves were stuck in her hair. Her clothing—obviously Asgardian—was torn and soiled, and one side of her face was covered in dirt. But it was the other side that was a horror. Burned into her right cheek was the rune that marked her as a traitor. The edges of the burn still looked like burning embers, tiny specks of unnatural blue light embedded into charred flesh. It was a magical brand, meant to be difficult to cover by magic, if she could cover it at all. People of Midgard wouldn’t understand it’s meaning, but it would still draw unnecessary attention to her. Cleaning it was painful; the cold water stung the wound, so she focused on cleaning the dirt off the rest of her face and pulling leaves out of her hair.

Once her face was clean and her hair combed through with her fingers, Sigyn turned her attention to the brand. She inhaled and focused on creating a glamour to cover it. It went over easily enough, but it quickly slid off her face like oil. It took effort to keep it in place, but eventually she managed to get it to hold. Hopefully with more practice she wouldn’t need as much effort to keep it.

Outside the bathroom had been quiet until now. She heard several male voices and a new female voice.

“She’s in the bathroom,” the woman from earlier said.

“Some kind of psychotic break?” A male voice asked.

“She looks like she’s been abused. She’s got this horrific burn on her face.” More quiet murmuring.

They had sent guards for her; perhaps she had been recognized? No, that wasn’t possible, but it didn’t change that there were still guards outside her door. Sigyn backed into one of the stalls and locked the door just as someone else walked into the bathroom.

“Ma’am?” It was a different woman’s voice. “Ma’am are you alright?”

Sigyn backed against the wall, breathing heavily and staring at the door. They would find her; there was no way to avoid that. Fighting would be foolish, but she could get out another way. The disguise wasn’t much, just a change of hair style and color, and clothes that mimicked what the first woman she met here wore. Keeping the glamour over her face took effort, but she stepped forward, unlocked and opened the door.

The woman just stared at her, like she was surprised to see her. “Oh.”

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“We were told there was an injured woman here.”

She shrugged. “No injured woman here.”

“Will you come out and answer some questions anyway?”

It wasn’t so much a question and a command disguised as one. “Of course.”

The guards outside were dressed in the same dark blue as the woman who found her in the bathroom. The tavern girls jaw was slack as she gaped at her. “What the fuck?”

“Is this the woman you were talking about?” One of the guards asked.

The girl looked panicked and confused. “Yes, but…”

Something on the guard started beeping, and one spoke into something on his shirt collar. “We have to go. Now.”

The guards left the tavern, and she watched them pull away in white vehicles with flashing blue and red lights and terrible shrieking horn. The tavern girl wasn’t alone anymore. A young man and middle aged woman had joined her.

“What the hell are you?” The girl asked.

Sigyn let the entire disguise drop, and grinned at the gasp all of them gave. “You owe me breakfast. And if you call the guards again I will kill you.”

The young man hurried back behind the counter. Sigyn sat at one of the tables in an uncomfortable chair and waited. The food was brought quickly enough: fried potatoes that were both sliced thin and mashed into a flat patty, and several sandwiches of meat and cheese. She devoured all of it and licked grease and salt off her fingers.

The small group that worked at the tavern had stared at her the entire time until the older one pulled a small black rectangle out of a pocket. “Oh my god.”

Sigyn watched as the other two gathered around her and stared at the rectangle. “What is it?” No one answered her, so she rose and marched over. “I won’t ask again.”

“There’s…there’s an attack on New York,” the older one answered.

“It looks like a whole army.”

An army. Sif had said that Loki had acquired an army to attack Midgard. Sigyn snatched the rectangle from the woman’s hands and silenced her protests with an icy glare. The rectangle was a screen showing a city she assumed was New York. A beam of light shot from the top of a building into the sky, opening a portal to reveal the darkness of space. Ships poured forth like blood from a wound. Loki’s army.

“You will take me to New York.”

* * *

Sigyn stopped and took a long drink from her beer.

Harry felt as though the air had been squeezed from his lungs. Of all the possible ways he’d imagined her exile, he’d never thought it would have been like _that_. His vision was blurred by tears, but he could still see that her glamour had fallen. The brand had obviously healed; it was now a dark pink but just beneath the surface he could see the faint blue light that illuminated her veins.

“What happened next?” he choked out.

“I was too late. By the time I made it to New York the battle was over and Thor had taken Loki back to Asgard.” She looked over at him and gently wiped the tears off his cheek. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“No, I’m glad you told me,” he said, and he meant it. It meant she trusted him. She gingerly touched the brand again. “Does it hurt?”

“Sometimes. Not as much as it used to, and I’ve gotten better at covering it. But mostly, I’ve just grown accustomed to it.”

That was another gut punch. She should have had to grow accustomed to something like that. “Hey, um, when you’re here, you don’t have to cover that. I’m not bothered by it, and this is your home. You should be comfortable here.”

“Home,” she murmured. “I never thought I’d find that again.”

Harry could feel his blood boil again. _I’m going to kill him_. The thought, whispered in the Goblin’s voice, burrowed in the back of his mind. Still, he quieted that voice for the moment. Sigyn didn’t need him vowing to kill her father in law right now.

* * *

In his dreams, Asgard looked like something out of dungeons and dragons with a little bit of the Iron Throne splashed in. Odin was a one-eyed Gandalf, whose singular gaze startled him awake. Harry lay in his bed, his heart pounding. Odin hadn’t said anything in the dream, but it had still been unsettling. He climbed out of bed and headed towards the door. Water—or whiskey—might help him get back to sleep.

The Goblin hissed as he passed the mirror. _I’m still dreaming aren’t I?_

“He hurt Mother,” it snarled. “He tortured her. We need to kill him.”

“Not strong enough, yet.” His own voice seemed quiet, and his tongue was heavy. “Asgard is…” So far away. So much more guarded. So impossible still.

But the Goblin just snapped its teeth at him. “He hurt Mother!” He grinned, all pointed teeth. “So we will hurt him.”

Harry woke again with a gasp. It wasn’t quiet morning yet, but the sky was a bit lighter. Dreams with the Goblin were not uncommon; he’d accepted that it was an extension of himself. Impulsive and violent, but still him. He certainly wanted to avenge what happened to Sigyn, but the ferocity of the dream had taken him aback.

He grabbed his phone, at first meaning to play some dumb game to distract his mind, but he found himself Googling images of Loki, and wondering how he would have reacted to Sigyn’s story. Somehow Harry doubted that he would have hesitated before marching on Asgard.

“Don’t worry,” he promised, almost delirious with exhaustion and teetering on the edge of sleep. “I’ll make sure he pays for what he did to Mother.”

* * *

The next morning, Sigyn seemed in a brighter mood. Maybe not cheerful, but lighter. She was sprawled across the couch, watching television.

“You look better.”

“Oh, more than that.” She grinned, and the scar twisted. “Just watch.”

The news came back on, showing footage from earlier that morning, closer to rush hour. It was clearly taken from someone’s cell phone while they were looking out from their window. All it showed was a giant winged creature, perhaps a hawk or a vulture, swooping over the streets and around buildings. He could hear people yelling on the street below. The man recording the video had to be censored, especially when the bird swooped by the window. And then it was gone.

“Is that one of ours?” he asked, awestruck.

“It’s one of yours,” she answered.  “In all the ones I’ve made, I’ve never made a giant bird before. You should be proud, little goblin.” Harry beamed both at her praise and in knowing that he had been successful.

They continued to watch replayed news footage while eating cereal, almost like they were giddy children watching Saturday morning cartoons. It may have been a twisted sort of normal, but it felt more natural than anything else from his childhood.

The commercials came back, at which Sigyn just rolled her eyes—“how many times do they need to sell this medication? This is the third time I’ve seen this just this morning.” Harry was about to take their dishes back to the kitchen when a new commercial came on. It was one that the theater companies put on, and he would have ignored it were it not for some dressed as Iron Man flying across the stage on a wire. Sigyn froze, glowering at the screen the way a cat might at a bird just outside her window. It showed brief flashes of each of the Avengers individually and as a group. Harry knew what would come next, and he heard Sigyn inhale sharply when it showed someone dressed as Loki.

“They would make a spectacle of my husband’s defeat.” She sounded a little angry, but mostly she sounded tired. “Typical.”

“So let’s do something about it.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Do you have something in mind?”

“I don’t know but we should do something.”

“It’s risky.” She may have seemed hesitant but he could see her turning the idea over in her mind.

“And what we’ve been doing isn’t?”

“More people, an enclosed space, all of these risks are things we haven’t faced yet.”

“I thought you would want to send a message that the era of spreading bullshit like this is over.” He pointed towards the TV.

“Of course I do! But I’m also not about to let something like this,” she pointed to her brand. “Or let something worse happen to either of us because we were reckless.” She sighed and dragged a hand through her hair. “If we do this, we will plan this carefully, more so than anything else we’ve done before.” Sigyn was trying so hard to look serious, but Harry could see the glint in her eyes and the grin she was trying to hide behind her hand. “But you’re right. We cannot let this stand.”

“Well then,” he said grinning. “Let’s raise some hell.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was kind of an experiment for me so I hope it turned out alright.


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